


THE KILL

by MaryLouLeach



Series: Acts of Friendship [1]
Category: Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action/Adventure, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-20 11:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 46,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryLouLeach/pseuds/MaryLouLeach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone had declared war on the Yard, Sherlock and John are caught in the crossfire. John seems to be the only constant in each attack, who could be targeting the Doctor and why? Can Sherlock solve this before it's all too late? No slashes, lots of hurt,comfort,friendship and mystery though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Organized CHAOS

**CHAPTER 1. Organized CHAOS  
**

"Really John, I could have come in to see you for this. No need to make a house call." Greg grumbled sitting back in his chair.

"Yes, well I gave you a chance, you promised to come in a week ago."

"I've been busy-"

"That's why I'm here. Decided to make an office call on my way home. Now pull this sleeve back." Doctor Watson ordered the irritable silver haired DI in a tone that he reserved for fussy children. This earned him a cold unappreciative glare, still the DI did as he was told, and Doctor Watson tried to keep a straight face.

"Oh, Detective inspector, I bet if you're good the doctor will give you a lolly." Sargent Donovan giggled, leaning against the door frame of the DI's office. Detective Inspector redirected his icy glare in her direction, she giggled pretending not to notice.

"You're next Sergeant." John threw over his shoulder in warning.

"Wait-" Donovan started to protest stiffening now, uncrossing her arms from her chest, putting them up as if to defend herself.

"No, buts. You two, remember last years flu season, I think half the department came down with it. Best stay ahead of it this time, besides it's just one little poke." John had already injected the clear substance without the DI's notice. "See all done." He put a small plaster over the spot. "Sergeant." John smiled, as he deposited the syringe in a sharps container he kept in his bag, and disposing of his nitrile gloves.

"Oh-" Before the caramel skinned Sargent could continue to object Lestrade's phone cut off any other conversation.

"Looks like you're saved for now Sally. Three more bodies found. In the warehouse district this time. It's another murder, looks the same as last week, three victims no murder weapon shot execution style. Doctor since you're already here, better save yourself a trip and cab fare. I think this one might interest your flatmate."

**~0~**

Sherlock glanced at the text from Lestrade a smile creased his lips, a new case, good he was starting to get bored. The consulting detective was about to text John once he had climbed into the cab, but his flatmate beat him to it.

" _Riding with Greg to the scene meet you there."-JW_

Sherlock continued to grin, John must have ambushed the DI, he'd already forced a flu shot on Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock, both relented immediately. There was no arguing with the Doctor, and the dark haired detective wondered if Mycroft had been subjected to similar treatment. Mycroft had always been a bit of a baby when it came to needles.

Sherlock's musings were interrupted as the cab came to an abrupt stop, jolting him forward, had he not been wearing a seat belt he'd of tumbled out of his seat. Confused Sherlock froze, the sounds of sirens and the smell of smoke registered immediately, sending a bolt of adrenaline straight through him his whole body tense with alarm.

"Cant get no closer sir."The cabbie turned to face his pale passenger.

Sherlock scrambled out of the cab throwing money at the cabbie, running now towards the cluster of squad cars, his mobile in hand.

"You've reached the voice mail of Doctor-" Sherlock ended the call, he tried Lestrade still nothing. Then came the panic, it shot through his veins like ice, his heart threatened to explode out of his chest and the noises around him were almost canceled out by the roar of blood thundering in his own ears.

"Excuse me sir! You can't go in there! No one is allowed past the tape!" Sherlock wasn't listening to the the tall PC, instead he focused on taking everything in, several emergency vehicles a fire truck and the sound of gunfire past the burning buildings, the dark smoke heavy and thick. He was trying to move beyond the yellow tape, needing to find John, and Lestrade, once he knew they were safe he could get to the bottom of the disaster. "Look! No one is able to get through! Cant you see!" The PC pointed at the wall of debris, blocking the vehicles, emergency workers had made a small gap big enough only to allow for one police officer at a time, and they were cautiously climbing through, to pull out the wounded. Sherlock could see other PC's struggling to get clear, an assortment of injuries, ranging from lacerations, broken bones,and gunshot wounds. It wasn't a hard deduction, he knew that someone was targeting the wounded and injured officers.

"Sherlock!" Sally called hurrying over to the consulting detective, her eyes were red rimed and Sherlock could see her knees where bleeding, scraped, she'd been pushed into the gravel, someone had covered her body with their own. Her coat was covered in dirt except the back, as was her hair, someone shorter than Sherlock, short and stocky, his attention snapped away from these musings to her hands, shaking and stained red.

"Where are they? What's happened?" Another loud explosion made the ground beneath them tremble; two more PC's were ordering them back further.

There were paramedics waiting for several firemen trying desperately to remove large pieces of what once had been the wall of a building from the road way in hopes of widening the narrow opening.

"Lestrade is on the way to the hospital, the Doctor-" she took a breath, steadying her voice. "The Doctor wouldn't leave, after he made sure Lestrade was carried out he stayed to try and help the injured. Then, there was another explosion more shooting, it's like a war zone in there. One minute we were standing around three bodies then the world just exploded around us." He couldn't concentrate on her words, John was in there, behind that wall of twisted metal, glass and turned over squad cars.

The consulting detective wanted to press forward but Sally held him back "You cant-it's too chaotic. We barely got out, someone is shooting, picking us off like-like fish in a barrel."

Chaos, Sherlock thought to himself, utter chaos. And John was in there somewhere amongst it, fighting to get people out.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2. DOCTORS AND SOLDIERS**

The first explosion hit, and John ducked down, instincts taking over he pulled Sergeant Donovan down with him, just as the second explosion hit, this time closer. More debris started to pour down, instinct told John what came next, and he was prepared. "Stay down!" John growled. And just on cue, the shooting started followed by a third blast, the street was cut off, they were trapped in the middle of three burning buildings raining down rubble and fire around them.

"Lestrade! Greg!" John yelled over the rumbling of burning wood and shattering glass. He scanned what used to be the street in front of him, several police cars were lying on their sides, the lights still flashing like road flares in an accident. He couldn't see through the damn dust from the debris. He heard the sound of gunfire, something hit the hood of the car he was standing next to, making him duck down lower.

"Who the hell is shooting?" Donovan coughed.

"It doesn't matter, we're fish in a damn barrel!" John took a deep breath, he could see several of the PC's who worked at securing the scene just moments before, now they laid out injured, targeted in their vulnerable states. This angered the ex soldier, angered him, because it was senseless, those men out there were unarmed, even the ones with weapons only carried a handgun. What was a hand gun against a high powered sniper riffle?

"Stay here!" John remained crouched down; another bullet took out the head light of the police car he was using for cover. He collected his nerves, taking a deep breath, steadied his hands, he didn't care where exactly, as long as he fired in the general direction it should buy him some time to retrieve one of the unconscious PC's behind the squad car.

The sounds of sirens in the back ground didn't register, all John focused on was his potential target. Wasting no time he moved to the front of the car, still semi shielded, that's what he needed, a break in the clouds of dust, but if his view was obscured so was the snipers. As far as opportunity, he'd take what he could get. He fired twice waited for the expected return fire, watching for the flash from the gunman's riffle. His enemy's weapon rapidly firing in reply to John's threat, this  offered a perfect target for any trained soldier.  Popping up, John took aim and fired. He heard the sound of a gun hitting the cement moments after, and that was enough of a confirmation.

The good Doctor put an arm around a groaning officers waist, he hated to move him but it wasn't safe. "Come on." He grunted standing the taller man up, someone joined him.

"Sir. Doctor Watson?"Relief washed over the Doctor, he knew this officer calling out to him. Clarke was now at his side taking some of the weight of the disorientated PC, John was trying to help.

"Clarke, we have to get these men out of the open, those bastards are going to start shooting again. Once they have visibility."

"Lestrade!" John called out as he moved towards the cover of a turned over squad car, no answer, this frightened him, he didn't have his mobile he'd dropped it somewhere and wasn't going to look for it. Just as he predicted the firing started again, the Doctor knew the emergency vehicles wouldn't be able to come in if there was still shooting and danger of more explosions. He feared that the buildings left standing would be the ones with the shooters.

"Doctor Watson! Doctor Watson!" It was Sally Donovan shouting, and John ran over in that direction, leaving Clarke with the injured officer. Coughing from the thick smoke he made his way around the turned over squad car. "Doctor it's the DI!" Sally's voice was shaky. She was holding a hand to the left side of the unconscious DI's head. Just above the ear, blood was staining her hands and a crimson puddle soaked the gravel beneath the DI's silver head.

"I, I cant get it to stop bleeding, he wont wake up." John checked the DI's pulse saying a quick prayer, it was there strong as ever.

"Alright Sally slowly move your hand, I have to see how serious the injury is." John kept his voice calm and even. Her brown eyes locked with his blue, she nodded slowly. "He's been shot in the head, we were standing. I heard him over the radio, I came over and then officer Joy went down, Lestrade was standing and then no more-and and blood started-it's pouring from his head." Her voice shook, John looked over Sally's shoulder to the PC that was leaning against the wrecked squad car holding a hand to her leg. 

"I'm alright doc, just surprised me, and barely scratched me. Take care of the DI there."

"You just sit tight then, you're next." The woman nodded shakily, Sergeant Donovan's eyes never left the injured DI. "Oh, thank god." John had held his breath and now released.

"Doctor?" Sally had an edge in her voice, confused she scanned John's face.

"It's alright, it clipped him. Apparently who ever was shooting is a terrible shot. Missed him, a bit more to the left and he'd have more than a few stitches and a headache to look forward to."

"But there's so much blood." John took out a gauze pad from his pockets, he placed it over the open wound. "Hold this in place, put hard pressure on it. The head has more tiny blood vessels closer to the surface than any other part of the body. It looks worse than it is. I'm glad I had my medical bag with me today. Looks like it'll be handy." He placed Sally's hand back over the clean gauze squeezing in reassurance she gave a shake of her head.

"What a day right doc?"

"Yeah, and it's just Monday." He smiled easily and went to look over the young women with the leg injury, another close call she would need a few stitches on her thigh. "Lots of pressure."

"Thanks doctor." The woman coughed.

"I radioed for emergency services, as well as bomb squad. They're having trouble clearing the blocked road way." Sally informed the Doctor.

"Let them know about the shooters in the buildings, they could be walking into an ambush." Sally nodded taking the radio.

"Wait, Doctor where are you going?"

John exhaled "There are more injured, I cant just leave them out there, once this dust settles who ever is shooting will have easy targets."

"Doctor, please don't go out there, we have back up coming."

"They don't have that much time." John removed his green jacket placing it under the DI's head. "Keep pressure on that. Make sure you notify your back up that there are shooters in those buildings there." Sally nodded taking note of where the blond man pointed, and then Doctor Watson headed out into the smoke without hesitation.

John moved quickly, very much aware that someone was targeting him, he tried to stay low, the dust was still heavy. He could see the flash of a weapon, bastards were just shooting wildly now. At anything that moved, so he stayed still, he saw the flash again, he took aim and fired. A cry of shock, _gotcha,_ he fired again just for good measure hearing the clatter of a weapon hitting the ground. A handful of armed PC's were swarming in behind him, and without a word John took point.

"There's at least two shooters in those buildings there!" John coughed pointing up, one of the PC's nodded. "Stay low! You can catch their location by the damn bullets flash as it's fired. Those bullets go through vests, remember that." The officer he spoke to didn't question the doctor, thinking him a plain clothes detective from the tone in which John used.

John pointed to the second floor of the abandoned warehouse, he could see the shadow in the boarded up window, the black cloth, not a curtain, no reason for there to be one, it wasn't an office building, that was someone's black coat or sweatshirt. Two shots is all it took, two and one sniper weapon fell from the window, the shadow no longer visible, he knew he caught the bastard.

"John!" Clarke yelled, just as another explosion rocked the building a few feet away. The blast pushed him and the other four with him back against the building he covered his face, more shots, this time in their direction. " Shit! " One of the officers with him returned fire. "Into the building! Go!" John yelled and the others scrambled to climb into the window careful to avoid the jagged shards from the now broken glass.

The smoke was heavier, a strong wind pushing the dark clouds against the remaining buildings. Two other Yarders across from their position, fired up at the second gunmen. John climbed through the window easily, the four he was with waited for orders.

'

The unarmed officers who'd taken refuge behind the overturned squad cars were all easy targets unable to move towards the narrow street's only exit. This had to end and now. He wondered if everyone else realized this was a set up, a trap, either way, he didn't have the time to figure out the why behind it all.

The all too familiar sound of a riffle firing echoed through the building down the old stairs.

Taking another deep breath he gathered himself, handguns against a riffle, not a very fair fight; the officers he had with him,  weren't equipped for this kind of situation. It was supposed to be a routine investigation not a bloody massacre.

"If we can secure this building then we will have a bit of high ground advantage." He whispered, the others nodded and John formulated a plan one of the officers, Troy was his name spoke quickly into his radio letting the other armed officers outside the building, in on the new strategy. John understood by taking out the sniper up on the second floor, they could secure the other building and this would open up the street below for the injured to move somewhat safely towards the narrow exit where emergency vehicles waited.

Sargent Donovan watched the building several feet away, the second floor lit up with gunfire, visible through the smoke, across from that one another flash of lights. Then she heard officer Troy over the radio.

"Building 1 secure."

The radio in her hand buzzed in reply, "Roger that. Building 2 now secure." 

She ignored the burning in her eyes from the smoke, she was sure to keep watch for movement across the street. Officer Joy held the blood soaked gauze to the DI's head in Sally's place.

To Sgt. Donovan's relief, the Doctor was approaching now, several of the armed officers behind him, the group stayed low still conscious of the possible threat of enemy fire. 

The paramedics were able to push through escorted by other armed special officers,  making way slowly towards the small group of survivors. 

"Careful with him." John coughed now as an emergency crew looked over the still unconscious DI Lestrade. John spoke quickly to the paramedics lifting the DI onto a stretcher, careful to update them on the situation.

Sally Donovan had heard that the Doctor was ex military and she'd always assumed he'd only ever been an army Doctor, someone who worked out of a hospital not one who was used to combat situations, so she stood surprised at how quickly he'd taken charge of how the injured were removed, ranking by severity of injury.

"Doctor, you've done enough. The others will clear the scene-"

"You go. I'll help who I can until more stretchers can get through." The sergeant nodded and she acted as a crutch for officer Joy the two women made slow progress down the street. Just as they made it through the small opening in the fallen wreckage, cleared out by rescue workers, another explosion sounded and the sound of gun fire. Fear gripped her as the paramedics were pulled back awaiting the area to be secured.


	3. WOLVES IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING

**CHAPTER 3. WOLVES IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING**

By the time emergency crews were able to get through and more reinforcements came in to secure the area, the sun had started to set.

An exhausted John Watson put a hand to his shoulder, the ache becoming more and more annoying. A nice little strain compliments of one of the last explosions, they'd been on their way towards the narrow exit when the blast slammed him and the three others in his group into the ground, he would have been fine but somehow he managed to land on his shoulder just right.

He and the last group of officers took refuge behind the same turned over police car that John and Sally had crouched behind earlier. He thought of Lestrade and hoped the DI had already regained consciousness, hopefully he would take it easy for a couple days. Damn his shoulder was killing him.  And when did it get so damn cold?

"You ok doc?" Clarke kneeled down next to smaller man.

"Yeah, just a little sore." John replied weakly. "I'm not as young as I used to be." he forced an easy grin trying to play down the pain. No sense in making a fuss.

"Alright. Looks like the EOD is coming in. What for I don't know? I don't think there is anything left to blow up. But protocol." John realized that the other officers were watching him, maybe for a reaction? 

"Uh, that's good." He stated uncomfortably, pulling his arm into his side, the throbbing intensified. 

"The damn street should be cleared enough so that we can get out." Troy reported to John quickly, as if expecting further orders. And when none were forthcoming he gave John a worried look."DI? Should we-"

John realized Troy was talking to him, he coughed, the action made his shoulders cry out, shit definitely dislocated.

"Troy is it?" John took a deep breath.

"Yes sir. "

"I'm not a DI. Why would you think-"

"We all assumed you were a plain clothes-"

" I'm a doctor."

"A-"

"Its true." Officer Clarke smiled at the usually stoic Troy. "This is Doctor John Watson."

"Wait-we've been taking orders from a doctor? A regular GP?" some of the other men had stopped talking and moved closer to where the the two men were crouched down next to the sitting doctor.

"Well-I was a surgeon. But I guess for all intensive purposes I'm a GP." John coughed again unable to hold back a groan, damn smoke.

"Doc what's wrong?" Clarke moved closer.

"Damn shoulder."

"Wait you're just a doctor?" an officer John didn't recognize kneeled down next to him.

"Hey-back off. He just said that. Dont crowd him." Clarke snapped not caring for the tone the dark uniformed officer used. The Doc was looking a little green around his eyes, even under the layer of dirt Clarke could tell how insipid his friend was. That and the sweat beading on the man's forehead was a definite sign the Doctor was in some kind of distress. Not that Doctor Watson would ever admit that.

"Calm down there mummy, I was only wondering-"

"Wondering what?" John held his arm close to his body. The burning in his shoulder starting to mount.

"Just what the hell they are teaching you in medical school these days! I saw how you fired that gun like you'd handle firearms before."

"John? What can I do?" Clarke ignored the other man.

Something occurred to John, it was quiet no more shooting, just the sounds of clattering, grinding, the crushing from the metal work trucks removing large pieces of cement that blocked the way out, the crackle of the burning buildings, and the sounds of heavy boots on loose gravel, this bothered him for some unexplained reason.

John looked around in the dimming light at the 8 officers that made up his group. "Is it usual to have so many officers on a crime scene?" John asked Clarke, Johns voice hoarse from the yelling and the smoke. "I mean, I've gone plenty of times over the years with Sherlock and I never noticed so many police-especially on a routine murder investigation."

"Hey Doc how bad is the shoulder?" the PC who'd been speaking earlier asked. John frowned, and he could see that Clarke and Troy were looking around as well.

"Ugh, no don't touch it." The Doctor groaned, the man kneeling next to him had moved to get a better look.

"Sorry Doc but you know as well as I, that needs to be popped back into place."

"Whats your name then?" John grunted as he forced himself to sit up instead of give in to slouching and the allure of passing out.

"Davy."

"We should wait, the paramedics will be in soon as the EOD gives an all clear." Troy interjected.

"You did some nice work Doctor." Davy smiled easily. "Where did you learn to shoot like that? Definitely not med school." Davy reached for the man's arm.

"What department are you with?" Clarke's hand snaked out clasping the wrist of the officer halting any movement forward.

"The London Boroughs. Why you asking?" Davy growled pulling his hand free.

"You should put that in place." Another of the darker uniformed officers inched closer. "Davy is right. My little brother had a nasty fall a while back and they didn't pop his shoulder back in time now he's all numb in his left hand."

"I am a Doctor, I do know the risk." John stated through clenched teeth.

"I'll do it. I've done it before." Davy gave a tight smile not looking at the doctor he kept his eyes on Clarke.

"Fine. I'll talk you through it if it's all the same." John agreed the muscle in his jaw tensing, his teeth still clamped tightly shut.

Davy spoke to the darker uniformed officer who now kneeled next to the injured doctor. "Hey, Dougie, why don't you help me out. You remember how to do this."

"Right."

Clarke was standing now watching as the EOD men wearing their armored suits rolled by, he gave a wave and they yelled for the group to stay put.

"Lets lay you back then Doc." Davy none to gently pulled John to the ground away from the squad car, the Doctor only gasped as the younger officer laid him flat. "Oh, sorry doc, I'll try to be a little gentler. But we both know this is going to hurt so here we go." Davy grinned wolfishly and Dougie took the mans arm. Both Dougie and Davy looked around, all eyes were on the EOD, no one was paying attention to the three.

John took a deep breath, he was proud of himself for not crying out, but the black pin pricks invaded his vision, he sucked in, the pain was intense as the bone had slid back into place. He realized as he laid on the cold gravel trying to steady his breathing,  that there were five officers wearing dark uniforms, no not dark but clean-everyone else was covered in gray ash and dirt. When had these guys joined their group? Definitely weren't with the officers that escorted the paramedics in that first time. 

Gulping he pushed the nausea back, maybe that's why there had been so many extra _"men"_ some of them weren't part of the MET. John needed to sit up, clear his head. He was observing now, damn how could he not see this? It was so obvious and if Sherlock would have been there he would have seen it a lot sooner.

"You're a smart one Doc, I'll give you that." Davy leaned down to talk to the doctor reading the ex soldiers face, knowing what conclusion the injured man had come to. "Why couldn't you just have passed out. Saved us this unpleasantness. I thought for sure you would have by now. Even gave you a little rougher handling. But you just refuse."

"What can I say-it's apart of my usual charm. You know you're good as caught."

Dougie held the Doctor's shoulders down, applying a little more pressure as Davy leaned over to whisper irritably into the Doctor's ear.

" That remains to be seen. You know, I'd kill you but it would get real messy for us. You ruined our plans a bit. My boss wont be too happy to hear this. And especially when I tell him it was some civilian playing action man."

John tried to concentrate on what Davy was saying, but the pain from Dougie's heavy hands squeezing his swelling shoulder caused another wave of suffocating nausea, he couldn't black out right now, but the damned Dougie was pushing into him cruelly. "Like I said Doc, you should rest maybe-wouldn't want us to shoot your little friends, after all the work they put in to make it out of the little trap we laid."

"You heard him Doc, how about we help you out." Dougie grinned.

John couldn't move the pain was intense in his shoulder, Davy smiled darkly "Nighty night." He took a handful of Johns hair brought his head up slamming it hard into the ground.

With the help of the EOD as a distraction,  and of course the other accomplices part of Davy's little group, keeping officers, Troy and that nosy Clarke occupied, the evil deeds of the two impersonator's went unnoticed.

After the Doctor was out, Davy all but chuckled, what an interesting day this turned out to be.

"John?" Clarke and Troy were looking down at the unconscious Doctor.

"Looks like he finally blacked out. This one's tougher than he looks." Davy patted the Doctors head as if John were was some kind of dog or pet that did good, Clarke didn't understand why this bothered him.

"Give him some room. Maybe a little respect wont you mate." Clarke was kneeling again next to his friend.

"If you say so." The dark uniformed officer shrugged moving away.

"Hey that's no way to treat a guy who was only trying to help." Dogie snapped back standing now beside his brown haired friend.

"We have an all clear, looks like the paramedics are coming I let them know the Doc's going to need a stretcher. Everyone else can walk out-"Troy reported still holding the radio to his ear.

"I'll stay with the Doctor." Davy volunteered. "Why don't you all go-wont be too long."

"No-" Clarke narrowed his eyes on the two men. "It's fine. I'll stay. You all can go. "

'

Irritation and anger flashed across Davy's young face, but just as quickly it was gone, replaced by a false smile one never reaching the man's eyes. "Well no sense in us sticking around then. Come on boys time to go."

"Until we meet again Doc-officer Clarke." And the brown haired man along with the other six officers made their way towards the cleared street to freedom.


	4. VISITING HOURS

**CHAPTER 4. VISITING HOURS**

"Sir, visiting hours are over in five minutes I suggest-" Sherlock turned a harsh glare towards the red headed nurse, not even a real nurse, more like a nursing student in her last year of training, picking up extra hours. Single, has two cats, wishes for a life outside of work and studies, in short, she was dull. "Or, you can sit there for another five minutes I suppose." The young woman stammered hurrying out of the room.

"Are you going to tell me to adhere to hospital visiting hours as well Sergeant Donavon?" Sherlock snapped refusing to look in the direction of the caramel skinned woman. Sherlock wasn't leaving from John's side until the Doctor awoke, he would never leave his friend to wake up alone, this had been an unspoken promise between the two since their first years of sharing a flat. Why couldn't anyone understand that, how could they not know what it felt like to be hurting, in pain, confused and alone among strangers?

"Far from it freak." The dark haired Sergeant sighed heavily. Sherlock could see she had scrubbed her face clean, still reminents of the days dirt and blood remained and someone had plastered the small cut on her forehead and chin. " I only came in to tell you DI Lestrade is awake. He's asking for you." Sherlock clasped his eyes shut, pulling himself from the chair at John's side. Something made him pause, looking at the steadily beeping machines and the equally balanced rise and fall of the sleeping Doctor's chest, Sherlock felt hesitant. He hated the feeling, he needed to go for the case and speak with the DI, but at the same time his blogger could regain consciousness without someone there to welcome him back to the waking world.

"He'll be fine. The Doctor said he had a concussion, they gave him a few stitches, and his shoulder has a bit of bruising and swelling. You two have seen worse." Sherlock didn't reply he only whisked past the exhausted Sargent, he would come back quickly, surely John would sleep through the night.

"He really isn't just your shadow?" Sally didn't understand the urge to fill the silence between the two, "I mean when Lestrade went down, and the blood was pouring out of him, I thought for sure he was-" she took in a deep breath and exhaled. Lestrade's room was on another floor, the two were waiting now for the lift. "And the Doctor he just knew what to do. And after he patched it up, he went out there in the middle of all that chaos and-" she couldn't find the words.

"You act as if I didn't know this already Sargent Donovan. I knew the type of man John Watson was within five seconds of meeting him. The fact that it has taken you all but six years-"

"I know, I know. It shows my lack of observational skills, intellect and whatever else you could come up with." She stepped into the lift after two men stepped out. One of the men smiled at her, she only shot a glare at him but he was already looking away heading down the hall.

Every bone in her body felt the fatigue from the adrenaline drop, that and a long day with just a bit of toast and coffee Sally Donavon was running on fumes. She allowed herself to lean against the cool steel of the elevator.

Sherlock couldn't understand her tone, it was so exhausted? Defeated? No, that wasn't it, she was concerned. For John? Lestrade? Maybe both. Sherlock hated these kinds of social situations, John would know what to say, what to do. The dark look she'd thrown at the two men who exited as they entered was scathing, why was she wasting that energy on strangers when she could make this awkwardness all go away by returning to her normal abhorrent self, even if she sent one of those contemptuous glares in his direction.

He didn't like this Sally, he preferred the easily aggravated Sargent, this Sally was making him feel-guilty and childish for snapping at her.

"I was just saying. He's a good man, that Doctor. I'm grateful he saved my life and a few others out there."

"That's what good men do." Sherlock replied coolly, wishing for this elevator ride to end he allowed his eyes to examine the floor, noting the ash that caked Donavon's black pumps, possibly the least sensible shoes . Then his eyes settled on the noticeable prints her heels made, all that dust and ash. Sally ignored the freak opting instead to save energy and remain silent , her hands balled in her coat pockets, she promised herself she'd take the freak to see Lestrade then she'd head straight home to a very warm and comfortable bed.

_**~0~** _

"What are we doing here Davy?" Dougie growled keeping his voice down.

"Did you forget, that Doctor saw our faces? The Boss said to clean it up, and I will."

"But it's a hospital-"

"Shut it Douglas go sit at the end of the hall, text me if you see law. It wont take a minute."

"Fine."

"Excuse me sir visiting hours are over-" the red haired nurse halted Davy who was peeking into a hospital room trying to locate which was Watson's. He'd only overheard that the doctor was on this floor he should have checked what room. No matter, nothing a bit of charm couldn't handle.

He put on a strained expression. " I know. But the woman at the front desk-uh she said my brother was here. I-I have to see him. He was one of the men injured from the explosion. They called me but I just got the message. Please-" the younger woman's eyes softened, she put a hand on his arm.

"Alright who are you looking for? As long as you make it brief-"

"Thank you. God bless-my brother is John-John Watson. They said he was brought in by ambulance but no one will tell me why? Or whats happened."

"Oh! You're Doctor Watson's brother?" She looked at the chart in her hands, it must have been a typo, the next of kin listed was a sister Harry Watson. Someone was always getting something wrong, she'd have to talk to Nancy at the front desk first she'd help his poor man reunite with his sibling. Grateful this dark haired gentleman was a lot nicer than the man in the dark coat and less frightening when compared to the man with the umbrella.

"Yes, Harry it says."

"That's me. Do you know Johnny?"

"I was just in there with him, he's the third room on the right, he hasn't roused yet but Doctor said it's expected. "

"Well that's Johnny hard headed as ever."

"You don't look a thing like him."

"Well he did take after our mother, the fair hair and stature. She was a stout and short women our mum. Didn't stop our father from courting her. I was fortunate enough to get dad's rugged good looks." The nurse giggled.

"Are you a doctor as well?" Davy couldn't help but flirt back, she was making it too easy, damn he was good, he could easily weasel out the location of that DI he'd heard the others talking about. Seemed one of their guys was a bad shot. It would be quite the prize if he were to take a DI out, surely he'd gain favor with the boss.

"No, no-I don't have the patience for it I'm afraid. I heard that the DI was also injured. He happens to be a good friend of the family. Do you think I could-"

"Of course, he's room 122 four floors down, I believe that's what one of the nurses had said."

"Oh?" Davy played the part of a curious stranger, when in reality he could give a damn.

"Well handsome man and a DI of course the nurses take notice-but I'm not one to gossip myself." She stammered her cheeks burning red with embarrassment.

"OF course not. Well goodnight nurse." Davy smiled she nodded and rushed back on her way without a second look back.

Sally thought she was about to drift off when the elevator came to an emergency stop. Her eyes wide open now, the consulting detective was hitting the fourth floor they'd just come from there.

"Hey! What's-"

"The floor! Look at the floor!" he growled, taking out his phone there was no signal of course blasted elevator. Donavon was looking down then back at him like he'd sprouted an extra head.

"You have to see it! You can't be so dense! Look!" he started to pace.

The elevator started to climb, Sally could only see the mess her dirty heels had made, well they would need to be binned when she got home. Nothing else there, but dirty shoe prints. Shoe prints, not her size, one was a men size 11 and a 9. Sherlock's expensive shoes didn't have the same layer of dust that she seemed to be covered in.

"So?" she rolled her eyes. She didn't have the energy to deal with this right now.

"oh you're back then? I wouldn't disturb the Doctor he's in with his brother." The nurse snapped irritably upon seeing Sherlock.

"Brother?" Both Sally and Sherlock asked simultaneously.

"Yes, a polite fellow. Harry Watson. I believe his name was."

Sherlock bolted down the hall towards John's room not bothering to hear the rest.

"Call security!" Donavon growled flashing her badge at the stunned nurse.

Davy closed the door behind him, too easy , he went over to the still form lying helpless as a baby. This was all too easy, it was almost insulting. He did like a challenge and there was no challenge in this. Oh, well, orders were orders, he'd thought of being boring and conventional just injecting some variety of poison or even insulin into the man's IV causing cardiac arrest, but he wanted to make sure there was no mess up. He drew the knife from his pocket. A clean cut to the throat maybe a quick stab to the heart, he wanted to make a point so the slit throat would be messy and messy was good.

Davy leaned over the man, a twisted grin on his thin lips.

"I wouldn't." a frosty voice instructed irritably, and if Davy thought about it, this tone sounded- bored?


	5. BIG BROTHER IS ALWAYS WATCHING

**CHAPTER 5. BIG BROTHER IS ALWAYS WATCHING**

**  
**

"I wouldn't. I really wouldn't. But then again you've shown your complete lack of intelligence and good sense by coming in here to threaten this man."

Davy had thought to ignore the first warning he was here to do a job, but this second line of dialogue forced him to look up at the source of irritation. When did that guy get there? Had he been there the whole time? Davy inspected the stranger, sitting in an expensive gray suit with a blue tie, his long legs made the chair look incredibly too small. At a glance the posh looking suit with a clean shaven face and a neatly combed brown almost ginger colored hair, on top of that this stranger seemed completely bored with the whole situation. Bored? And he was holding a black umbrella in fact the only sign of his growing impatience was in the way he tapped it rhythmically against the side of his shiny Italian leather shoe. The bastard even glanced at his gold watch to check the time. Was he blind? Couldn't he see Davy had a knife?

"Yes, yes. I'm not blind and I do see the knife. However I really haven't the time for open dialogue. Now, this is what you will do. You will back away very slowly from the Doctor there-"

Davy started to say something but Mister Suit, held a hand up rolling his gray colored eyes dramatically releasing a heavy sigh. The man's eyes were impartial, irritated even but not so threatening. Mr. Suit was clicking his tongue shaking a slender finger at him now. "We don't want to wake the doctor. He's had such an exhausting day don't you think?"

"Who the hell are you to be making demands? What's to stop me from killing him then you gramps? Anyways whats he to you. Not worth your life is he? Besides you don't look to threatening now, so why don't you sit still and wait your turn." This earned another exasperated eye roll.

"Manners. No one has manners these days. Oh, well. I did try to give you a chance. You know I do hate leg work, I'd rather supervise but I'll make an exception this one time. For the Doctor and of course my own peace of mind."

Davy had decided to take the man in the chair before the unconscious Doctor. Somehow the thought of gutting the smug bastard would bring him a little more joy then just a vulnerable target. He'd already moved to the foot of the bed, Mr. Holier than though art was still going on about something or other.

Just as Davy started to lunge something hit him hard in the chest, sending an electric shock through him, he could hardly breathe. Had he been shot? Why didn't he hear a gun shot? Why were his muscles clinched and how the hell did he get on the floor? A shadow fell over him, and he still couldn't move.

Eyes wide and questioning caught sight of a small gun in the mans ivory hands. No not a gun, as the man placed his thumb over a bright orange button at the curved handle.

"It's a shame that these things only have one good charge to them, I would have liked to send a few more bolts through you. I should look into having the department that come up with this draw up another kind of prototype. No matter. Where were we?"

"Sir-" a females voice interrupted. "The Russian Prime Minister wishes to know if you will be attending his daughters birthday party? Oh and American President has canceled tea-"

Mycroft looked over at his brunette Assistant her head down thumbs tapping quick messages on her blackberry.

"I will have to regretfully decline, send my regards and a gift would you. I'm sure Dmitry will understand. As for Berry, I was never one for the poison those Americans label tea-dreadful. But all the same accept whatever rain check as they call it he is offering."

Davy groaned, his hand twitching he needed the knife just out of reach. Who was this man, Presidents and Prime Ministers?

"Yes sir." the bird with the phone only nodded.

The giant in the gray suit turned his cold gaze on Davy's twitching body. Those eyes narrowed, gray like ice like a winters storm and they were directed at him and he was all to aware of the vulnerable state he was in.

"We'll continue this in more- _comfortable surroundings_. With less of an audience I think. And no interruptions." He used his umbrella to push the knife further out of reach.

"Who-who?" was all Davy could manage through gritted teeth. "Who is he to you? Why?"

"Not that it's any of your concern but that man there is my family Doctor. So hard to find one as capable and trustworthy these days. Then there is a matter of a certain bombing in my city. We will discuss it all later."

**~0~**

Dougie had been sitting in the hospital corridor playing look out, when that bird with the frizzy hair and a familiar looking bloke in a dark jacket burst from the elevator, overhearing the nurses conversation warning bells went off. He reached for his mobile to alert Davy but a firm hand on his shoulder halted any movement.

"I think it's best you put the mobile down. And come with us." The man speaking wore a black suit and Dougie could see the ear piece, security? Government men? Who the hell? Had they been followed, was this a trap then? The boss wasn't going to be happy.

Firm hands took him by his elbow, both sides, great there was two of them! Who wears sunglasses inside-at night? One of the men spoke into an ear piece. "We have suspect two. Mr. Holmes has Suspect one, send a team for collection, remember to be quiet, Doctor Watson is still sleeping and the boss wont like it if he's disturbed. The younger Holmes is on his way in."

Dougie tried to pull away "It's best you cooperate, you and your friend are already in a fair amount of trouble. Best not to add to it, besides I'm sure the boss will go easy on you if he knew you went without a fuss."

"The boss? Who are you guys? Since when does a doctor have bodyguards?" the man in the black suit remained expressionless.

"Perhaps you should have done your research a little better. " And Dougie was unable to reply a sharp pinch to the back of his neck he felt a darkness sweep over him.

"Nice work Jamie." The agent nodded at the two men dressed as orderlies pushing a cot. Jamie and his partner easily loaded the limp form of the unknown suspect. And the other two agents were unnoticed as they made their way down the hall, into an elevator and soon to an awaiting van.

**~0~**

Sherlock hadn't expected John's door to be open, he hadn't expected to see an unknown man curled up on the floor a knife just out of reach. And he certainly would never had expected to see his older brother holding a taser, at a quick glance the younger Holmes could see two wires protruding from two electrodes imbedded in the chest of the twitching dark haired stranger.

"Mycroft? What the hell?"

"Nice to see you as well brother. Really brother you must be tired, I thought you'd be here sooner. "

"What are you doing here? I thought you were in Brussels."

"Yes well peace talks went well, that meeting ended earlier than predicted. When I heard of today's events I thought I'd check in on the good doctor."

"Why?" Sherlock's eyes narrowed on the back of his brothers head.

"Because," the older Holmes turned slightly still gripping the taser in one hand and his umbrella in the other. "I was concerned."

 


	6. CATCH, RELEASE, ESCAPE

**CHAPTER 6. CATCH, RELEASE, ESCAPE**

John was happy to be leaving the hospital. Reasons beyond him, his Doctor requested firmly that he stay four nights under observation. Four bloody nights, Doctor Watson would have released a patient after one night.

And to make it worse several Yarders came to _visit_ ,  thanking him for his part in helping the injured, John had always felt uncomfortable with praise. He felt that one shouldn't be praised for doing what any decent human being would do for another. Somehow each visit felt more like witness protection. 

To John's irritation he was never alone, even when he fell asleep between visitors, John would wake to find someone occupying the chair next to his cot, but mostly it had been Sherlock. For a private man like Doctor Watson this was hell and he was sentence to it for four days.

When it wasn't the consulting detective taking up space,  it was officer Clarke, hell even Troy who still marveled at the fact John was just a doctor. As if being _**just**_ a doctor wasn't anything, obviously Troy had never taken an advanced chemistry course. John hated being treated as if he were a weak link,  or a child needing protection and special handling. He was an army doctor for gods sake!

John wasn't an idiot, he knew that after the failed assassination on his life, Sherlock was trying to keep him under tight supervision he was being, like always when it came to an injury or attempt on John's life, over protective. So Dr. Green nervously went down a long checklist, ran more tests and a couple scans, when John finally reached his wits end and decided to speak up. He knew what it was like to be a Doctor but really-his kidneys and liver had nothing to do with smoke inhalation and a concussion or a dislocated shoulder.

"I think that's quite enough Doctor." John waved off the lab tech trying to take some blood.

"Now, Doctor Watson, we only want to be sure you're in the best of heath before releasing you-" Doctor Green began nervously.

"Cut the crap. Why are you stalling?"

"Stalling Doctor?"

"I'm not an idiot, so don't talk to me like one. I don't even know you, I've never seen you here before."

"Well that's because the medical team were-uh enlisted from other hospitals. The two nurses that have come in to check your vitals on morning shift are from the Mayo clinic, and the night nurses were recruited from Johns Hopkins, I myself was currently working at Papworth Hospital where we specialize in heart and lungs. But my qualifications aren't specifically in just that field. Now the lab techs are from-"

"What? Even the Lab techs?"

"Yes, I'm sure you've been preoccupied as of late, so you didn't notice their French accents. They were brought in from Cecil-"

"Wait that's a bit ridiculous that's a private hospital in Switzerland."

"So you see, Doctor Watson, this room is a private room and the medical team was called in just to treat you."

"Why would someone do that?" John sat back feeling like a complete ass, he'd been snapping at everyone.

"I assumed you were related in some way to the Holmes family. Mr. Holmes after all is the one employing us, he felt that all though the hospital medical staff here at Barts are very capable and competent, he did not wish for students or Doctor's in training to take on your particular case. He gave very Stringent orders that you Dr.Watson be cleared 100% before I allow your release."

" Where would Sherlock get that kind of money, that must be-"

"Oh, not the younger Holmes, Mr. Holmes senior-"

"Mycroft? Of course." John sighed "Should have known. Listen. If I don't get out of here soon I'm going to go stir crazy. I am a Doctor I know I'm fine. No dizziness, no nausea, still sore from my shoulder but that's to be expected-everything else seems to be running perfectly. So-I suggest you draw up those release papers so you and your team can finally be free." Doctor Green pursed his lips together uncomfortably.

"As one professional to another-" John lifted an eyebrow at the younger doctor, in his crisp white lab coat. "As I was saying. One professional to the other, it would be in your best interest to allow us these last few tests. Your lungs still sound a bit-"

"For fucks sake" John grabbed his new mobile punching the numbers in forcefully "Oi, Mycroft. This is ridiculous I am not a child, and I am not Sherlock. Is this because of the flu shot? Or are you still sore over the tetanus shot ? You know the difference between necessary and unnecessary?  I told you, they are good only 10 years and you were due. All that traveling you do, it's best to be vaccinated against pertussis while we were out at- So if this is-" Dr. Green nervously shifted his weight from his left to his right foot, the older Mr. Holmes would not be happy with that tone that Doctor Watson was taking.

"Don't give me that-you're just like your brother the two of you hold a grudge longer- I m perfectly capable to diagnose myself dammit! Now I'm going home." Dr. Green watched wide-eyed clutching his clip board. No one spoke to the British Government like that. Who was this Doctor?  He must be related, the way his voice softened and the blond man gave a slight grin "I do appreciate this Mycroft but I promise I'm fine. Yes. Thank you. I will. He's probably driving Lestrade mad. You as well." John hung up shaking his head.

Doctor Green didn't get a chance to speak his phone rang and he knew before answering just who was on the other line.

**~0~**

Sherlock greeted John as he pulled on his coat, his arm in a sling still, he gently moved his arm from the sling to put his coat on, he hated slings, he resolved to bin the offending garment, deciding to just be careful with his arm.

"I would advise you not to do that Doctor Watson. That sling is to keep any pressure or strain from your shoulder." John rolled his eyes.

"I take it you haven't any leads." John opted to change the subject.

"None, Mycroft had those two interrogated and nothing substantial, however you know Mycroft he could be purposely withholding information. How are you feeling?"

"Sherlock, I'm fine." The dark haired detective released a deep breath then turned on his heels. "Good. Come along Doctor Watson we have a case, and leave your sling on."

**~0~**

Davy swore under his breath, his arms and hands ached from the endless hours or was it days of questioning. He wondered how Dougie held up. His minders had put a black bag over his head, and hands zip tied behind his back. He listened for a sound any sign that Dougie had been loaded into the van with him. There it was someone cleared their throat, good, if he'd given in they'd of shipped him off somewhere out of reach. Now it was a matter of escaping, and when he did, Doctor John Watson would pay. Sure it was Mycroft Holmes that had ordered the torture sessions and this little prison transport, but if it hadn't been for the Doctor playing hero-

Agent Roberts and Colton secured the two prisoners in the windowless cargo van. Roberts dark head snapped up hearing the sound of squealing tires approaching, and then both men along with the prisoners were pushed hard against the side of the van as a car slammed into the front of the vehicle. The sounds of yelling then gun fire, when the door of the van was pulled open, both agents weren't able to react and received expert shots to the head.

"Bout time." Davy sighed the black bag torn from his head, he squinted through a swollen left eye and turned to see who their saviors were with his right.

"Boss wants to talk to you." Davy shrugged.

"Untie me then." Ryan pulled his pocketknife out and released Davy. He looked over at Dougie who expected the same, but instead Roy shot him in the head. Both men spit on the now lifeless body.

"This one sold us out." Ryan cursed now under his breath, his hands gripping his weapon.

"Wish we would have had time to cut his tongue out." Roy growled. Davy didn't say anything he was happy to be free of the van. What was he going to say to the boss? Damn that John Watson, this wasnt over.

"How do you know he was a rat?"

"Boss isn't dumb, we have guys on the inside." Ryan snapped.

"Hey ladies lets cut the reunion short, the cops will be here soon." Roy kept a look out, no one ever stopped when there was an accident on the highway.


	7. THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM

 

**CHAPTER 7.** **THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM**

Things were disgustingly quiet for a while, Sherlock found it all so terribly disheartening, so very, very DULL. His brother had nothing new to report. Sherlock felt the usual suspicion that Mycroft was hiding something. The fact that he didn't trust his older brother and still held an annoying amount of resentment for the older Holmes, and at the same time he was confused over the feelings of gratitude for everything Mycroft did for the people he loved. Especially John, who had taken the detectives fall harder than anyone else. He knew Mycroft had been tricked by Moriarty both the Holmes brothers thought themselves one step ahead but that pride was their downfall. Sherlock couldn't fault his brother for this, he made the same mistake and it nearly cost him more than his life. Still after that betrayal he could never truly trust Mycroft. The consulting detective forced these emotions down and away he didn't like to waste time on them.

Instead he focused on the facts of this suddenly cold case, and he wasn't the only one. NSY was on high alert after the first attack, doubling up on armed officers for the first two weeks after the warehouse incident.

After two weeks of complete silence other than the occasional common place murders where the obvious or as John called it "usual suspects" were guilty of the crime, the maid, the butler, the ex husband the sister-all so unworthy of getting out of bed for. This is exactly why at two pm Sherlock remained on the couch wearing his blue silk robe, fuming over the tragedy of it all.

They'd come up with nothing, no leads the bodies from the warehouse explosions were damaged beyond recognition, Forensics had fun collecting DNA. Sherlock did have to smile thinking of Anderson rolling around in the dirt with a swab.

Still, this whole mystery was so frustrating, all leads were dead ends, and when Sherlock questioned Mycroft on the prisoners, any request he was about to make in regards to questioning them himself were of course predictably shot down by his infuriating older brother.

So this was Sherlock's existence, permanent paralysis, paralyzed, crippled, disabled, immobilized, prostrate **:** to affect with paralysis to make powerless or ineffective, unnerve, stupefy, to bring to an end **,** **to prevent to destroy**.

In short Sherlock the consulting detective, genius and self proclaimed sociopath was **BORED.**

"John! JOHN!" he moaned from the couch. "JOHN!"

"Sherlock you don't have to yell I'm right here."his flatmate refused to look up from his laptop.

"John where is your gun?"

"Sherlock we've been over this, Mrs. Hudson cant take anymore holes in the wall, not this week at least."

"No, John. I don't want it to put holes in the wall. I want you to shoot me! Just put me out of misery! Can't you-"

"You are such a child. Why don't you go down to Scotland Yard and ask Lestrade if you can go over cold cases?"

"No."

"Alright. Then why don't you start picking up around here."

"No." said in the a tone that reminded John of a child refusing to open his mouth so the doctor could check for strep throat.

John sighed heavily, this was his week so far, dealing with a bored genius was no fun at all.

"Why not get dressed and go for a stroll in the park?"

"Dull."

"Shopping, we do need milk and-"

"Dull."

"Sherlock, can you please be bored quietly. I'm using this time to update my blog and-"

"John! This is important! My mind is rotting away, it needs stimulation! John IT NEEDS A CASE!"

"Sherlock. I'd suggest you watch tele but you've shot it! This is why I hid my gun and the bullets."

"It's remarkable John, you of all people are able to hide the gun and bullets from me. Maybe it's a sign of my senses dulling and slipping away unused and atrophied." The dark haired detective held the union jack pillow to his face.

"Sherlock." John turned now trying to keep from laughing at such dramatics. "I don't know why you're so surprised we've lived together for five years now. Give or take a day or two, and you forget I had an alcoholic sister. Finding her hiding spots weren't actually child's play. Sometimes people get creative. So don't feel so bad."

"JOHN now is not the time to talk about your incredibly-"

"Stop right there Sherlock. Think before you continue that sentence." A warning, raised eyebrows, pursed lips, clinched jaw.

"THAT'S JUST IT JOHN! Have you heard nothing I've said? I can't think! I Just cant-" then came a hard knock on the door, Sherlock was sitting up almost immediately.

"Come in Greg." John recognized the DI's knock, over the years it had become as distinctive as the grainy sound of Greg's voice.

"There's been another?" Sherlock tried to keep the hopefulness from his voice, the disapproving glance from John indicated failure.

Greg nodded, he looked a little pale. "Two officers failed to check in this morning from their night patrol."

John was standing "What's happened?"

"Found one body in the trunk of his squad car, abandoned by the river. I'm on my way there now."  
"And the other?"  John asked.

Sherlock deduced the answer before the silver haired DI could reply, still he'd learned over the years to allow a person to finish. John declared this to be socially acceptable and polite. Edict and manners so very, very dull. All of it slowed progress with idle chat and empty pleasantries. Still, Sherlock took in the disheveled look of DI Lestrade, his hair ruffled from his hands running over it a sign of frustration, multiple times really worried. The second body hadn't been found. It was someone the DI knew-someone he worked with personally.

"Nothing. Gone without a trace. I made sure that no one touched the body, they all are waiting for you. Will you come?"

Sherlock pulled off his robe and headed for his room it never took him long to dress.

"Who was it Greg?" Sherlock could hear John's concerned voice while he buttoned his shirt.

"It was officer Troy and his partner Felix. Felix was in the trunk." Sherlock winced hearing this, he didn't like the feeling he got in his stomach when the DI was upset, and he was clearly upset. John would know how to comfort him, the Doctor always knew just what to do and say.

The sociopath was no good with that part of dealing with people. Even after being exiled for three long years, starved for the company of friends, some kind of meaningful human contact. Emotions and sentiment still escaped him, these feelings were very confusing. Although they could be harnessed as a strong motivator, fuel for the fire. Something he had learned after Moriarty's suicide. Usually writing off those feelings of emotion seemed logical but he knew that it was those feelings of sentiment that kept him going when all he wanted to do was lay down and give in to the pain or the darkness.

"We'll follow in a cab behind you Greg." The DI nodded gratefully to his friend and consulting detective, who now fully dressed pulled on his coat.

Sherlock read hope in the older man's eyes. Hope that officer Troy was still alive.

Climbing into the cab behind John, Sherlock sought out a way to discuss the inevitable outcome with his blogger.

"He's dead." John surprised Sherlock with this statement, not a question at all.

"Yes. Most certainly." 

John exhaled, the Doctor met the man that chaotic day a couple weeks back and he wouldn't forget how the young officer had come in to visit during John's forced incarceration, or as everyone else called it "hospital stay."

"Lestrade will be upset." Sherlock crinkled his forehead, again his stomach knotted, even in this statement he hated how his voice sounded small and worried.

"Yes. It's never easy losing men who are apart of your team. Especially when they're young. Christ knowing Greg he'll take it pretty hard, he'll have to be the one to let the officer's family know."  John didn't envy the man, as a Doctor, John has had to deal that harsh blow to shocked relatives, it's never easy telling anyone their loved one is dead. He could still remember the look of shock and disbelief on Mrs. Hudson's face when John told her Sherlock had jumped.

The young sociopath didn't respond to any of this instead he studied Johns face and the many different emotions that crossed the doctor's sky blue eyes. This would be a bit not good. And the consulting detective now felt the knot in his stomach tighten, he knew this feeling it was guilt. Guilt because he felt relief that there was another case.

"Do you think this has anything to do with the bombings two weeks ago?"

"I wont be able to confirm this theory until I inspect the crime scene but it would seem the logical assumption."

The cab thankfully arrived at their destination and Sherlock now forced all emotions down, filing them quickly away in his mind palace, for later inspection of course.

While approaching the abandoned squad car Sherlock noted several officers catching his bloggers eye and giving a short nod of acknowledgement, interesting, these men were showing respect for Doctor Watson. As they should, he did save several of their colleague's lives almost at the cost of his own. Recalling those events made Sherlock pause and wait for his friend to catch up to him, not wanting to be separated from John at any distance. His blogger wore a tight uncomfortable smile, he didn't care for the attention.

Sherlock leaned into the trunk, Donovan and Anderson stood off to the side giving him room to work. Since the consulting detectives return, Anderson acted as if he hadn't know Sherlock the years prior to his _"fall"_. Instead the forensics officer gave Sherlock five feet. The consulting detective almost missed the old nasal greeting of "Freak". Sally however used his old nickname, just not around John or the DI, and without the familiar insensitivity.

Dr. Watson scanned the faces of the PC's standing around securing the scene, no one stuck out or looked remotely suspicious. The atmosphere was thick with tension.

"John." Sherlock called him over to examine the body. "Stop!" Sherlock put a hand up to John, "Never mind. Get back!" Then turning to the DI Sherlock's deep baritone voice had an edge of worry. "Lestrade get everyone back! Now!"

"What?"

"Now!" Sherlock growled "And call the bomb squad!" This was enough for the DI to react, "Everyone back up! Behind the yellow tape! Anderson! Donovan! You too! Go!"

"Sir?" Sally frowned.

"GO!" Lestrade ordered

He glanced down at the battered body of the young PC, he just wanted to shut the trunk or lay a white sheet over the gruesome sight.

"Was this trunk open? When they arrived? Who was the first officer on scene?" Sherlock demanded. He still hadn't moved back, instead his gray eyes took in every detail of the body. Nice try, but not today. He thought to himself.

"The officer on scene was Riley, he found the car like this called it in. He knew enough not to disturb the body, or the evidence, I don't know if the trunk was open. I'll ask-"

"Don't bother. This was a set up. The position of the body the excessive amount of blood, this was meant to cause a reaction, to force someone to move the body out of sentiment or respect for the fallen co-worker, resulting in imminent death due to triggering the pressure sensors. Do you see it, there's a wire there in the carpet of the trunk, you can see where the fabrics been disturbed." Sherlock pointed to the area that had caught his eye, if he had been anyone else it would have been easily missed. If they hadn't waited, if Anderson or any of his team had started to process the scene-Sherlock felt his jaw tighten he couldn't finish that train of thought.

"Sherlock, lets both get back then, and wait patiently for the bomb squad." Lestrade gently but firmly took hold of the crook of Sherlock's arm pulling him away.


	8. CONTEMPLATION

John rubbed his eyes, sure enough just as Sherlock deduced officer Troy was found washed up on the shore of the Thames. He hadn't gone easily from the condition of the body, John opted out of this autopsy, instead he sat in Molly's office attempting to stay awake and the hospital coffee was not helping. He tried to concentrate on the information the EOD provided; both bombs were made by the same person. Bombers like to leave a signature with the building of their bombs, so in some twisted way they were signing their work.

No fingerprints, or DNA other than the victims, John flipped through several other pages. This bomber was new to the game, if you could call it that. No other explosions during recent or past terrorist attacks carried the same signature. Another dead-end then. All of it so frustrating, John rubbed his temples, that's all this was. One dead end after another, and more people, good men and women would die unless they figured this out.

**~0~**

"So Davy my boy, you've failed me again. Was I not clear on my instructions?" The taller man wore an expensive black suit with a silk red tie, his cobalt eyes narrowed on the younger man wearing a hoodie and faded Jeans. Davy held his breath, his uncle wasn't happy, and the fact he'd brought him out to the family estate in the country was more than proof. It was a risk to be seen with him, but uncle was taking the risk. So it could only mean that Davy was a dead man walking. He had to think quick.

"Sir-I followed your instructions we left the car and the body, we even had an anonymous call made. That officer on scene followed protocol but the police didn't touch the car. They called in that infuriating man! And his little Doctor friend!" Davy fumed holding a hand to his chest remembering his last encounter with one of the Doctor's friends.

"Yes. That's another thing. You allowed yourself to be seen, not only that a simple clean up mission resulted in your capture. Very lucky for us your little companion Douglas didn't know much or the SIS and that insufferable Mycroft Holmes would be in my office making an arrest."

"I'm sorry-I'll take care of it."

"Can you? Look what I intercepted!" The man in the black suit didn't stand up, he remained seated in his throne like wing backed leather chair. Tossing a handful of photographs at his nephew.

"Uncle Thobias-" Davy stared at the photographs, cctv camera's had captured his image when the bastards had led him out to the van, then of course when he was being questioned. The bruises on his arms and hands had barely started to fade from that ordeal. He was collecting the photographs cluttering his uncles very expensive and usually neatly organized oak desk. He hadn't registered the two bulky men in black t shirts and black pants now standing beside the chair he'd been sitting in.

"You shut up! You David are my only sister's only child. God rest her soul, she asked me to keep you safe when she died. And I have done all that I could. But you have caused me some trouble here. Not only have you brought the interest of the British Government too early into my plans but you've allowed his little brother the opportunity to catch your scent."

"Uncle-"

"I said silence! Now, I cant kill you. So I'll give you another chance if you fail again I'll cut your tongue out and hand deliver you to Mycroft Holmes wrapped in the pretty red ribbon of your own intestines. So, what I'm going to do is change your appearance a bit. Nothing major." He nodded to the two men now grabbing his young nephews arms forcing him back into the chair.

"I do hate leg work involved in these little schemes but I have been trying to gain enough influence to make my move against Mycroft. Unfortunately his guard is now up, and though I hold an equally small position in the Government, I want his. He's the only man that does not succumb to threats, he has nothing to black mail him, the man is too careful and he's too intelligent for assassination attempts too well connected. So here I am trying to prove him inadequate at his job, to make him lose face! I cant do this if his dammed little brother and his watch Dog are sniffing around! You've fucked up Davy!"

"I'll make it right. I'll make it right. We can still go on with the plan. Targeting Scotland Yard was a great idea Uncle. The bombs I've built were perfect and procuring uniforms isn't difficult. If we start targeting those close to Mycroft-"

"Are you an idiot! Did you not listen to a word I said? Mycroft Holmes is careful. He has no loyalties except to Queen and country. No friends-do you know he even gave up his own little brother to that psychopathic Irishman Moriarty just for a small piece of useless information regarding Moriarty's web. I wish I had the same heartless nature. Unfortunately I do not. So here we are, I can't kill you but I can help out the fact that your face won't need to be so recognizable. So the new plan then. We'll stick to targeting the yard, they'll soon be scrambling around trying to figure out who's friend and who's foe. If we are lucky we'll create some friendly fire due to the confusion. Then more fire, Mycroft wont have a choice but to take over the investigation. That's when we'll feed the false information; I've planted a mole in his office one he'd never think to question. No one ever looks at the minor players. Soon he'll be seen as a weak link or if we're lucky he'll open himself up to assassination who knows? The possibilities are endless. First things first, hold still." Davy tried to struggle his eyes now catching his uncles favorite letter opener clutched in the older man's thick hands.

"Oh dear I should have laid something over the carpet." He tisked moving in now, his men holding the boy down another hand kept his forehead still.

When the sharp metal carved an angry path from his temple to his neck, he tried to hold back the cry of pain. Instead he concentrated on the many things he would do to a certain doctor. His uncle was wrong, Mycroft Holmes did have weakness, why else would he have his brother under surveillance, why else would he visit a hospitalized Doctor? In his years as a freelance mercenary Davy learned a few things and now these skills would come in handy. He'd start with getting Big Brother out of the country maybe a little disaster at an embassy could call the king away from his castle.

**~0~**

"Sir nothing in the data base." Mycroft glanced down at the photograph of their recently escaped guest. His PA placed another file in front of him. All the information they'd collected on the other assailant, dead on scene along with several of the Government's agents. That young man had given minimal intel and Mycroft deduced immediately it was because the man knew very little about the organization he worked for. Things were not adding up, it was a rare thing to have a security leak; he would need to start an internal investigation first.

Before he could have the staff files brought up on his computer his phone rang, he stood up immediately hearing the situation on the other line. Looked like their bomber was in Germany, he'd targeted an American Embassy.


	9. PAY BACKS

 

**CHAPTER 9. PAY BACKS**

Davy orchestrated several bombings in parts of Europe, not as hard as one would think, his targets were random government buildings, it was sure to have several governments scrambling to find answers. His Uncle actually congratulated him even though it wasn't what he'd originally planned, Tobius Huges was taking delight in watching a certain department up in arms, on high alert and out of the country.

The American Embassy in Germany had been the first target, of course the American's assumed it was a terrorist attack in some way related to the whole mess in the middle east. Then the bombing of a hotel in Switzerland where a certain Japanese government official had been staying. A car bomb in Ireland in front of another Embassy, a bombing in a hospital where a French Prime Minister had checked in when he complained of chest palpation. It wasn't the number of victims claimed by each explosion; it was more the high profile of those close enough to be considered the intended target. Diversions, Davy grinned now, that would keep Mr. Holmes out of the country and very busy. Especially since he'd been sure each bomb he'd personally made with his signature. Little did the authorities know they were chasing a ghost, he'd never left the country, only entrusted the act of placing the bomb, in the hands of his most loyal crew members.

So he had three of his most trusted men put on the stolen paramedic uniforms, everything was going to be just too easy.

_**~o~** _

Lestrade put his hands on his hips, no one spoke, these victims both officers. The DI had managed to keep the other murders out of the papers, but the body count was mounting and the MET was starting to be pushed for answers.

These two were traffic cops that disappeared on duty the night before. Sherlock moved around the room, inspecting the bodies closely careful not to touch them, the EOD had cleared the room, trampling any evidence of footprints which put the detective in a dark mood.

Everyone was on edge, the MET doubled up on armed officers clearing any crime scenes. Check in was made every hour by radio for all officers on patrol, any traffic stops were called in and another squad car would drive by just to be sure the officers making the stop were in no need of back up.

The DI trusted his men and those who worked for the Yard, but he wouldn't lie about the fact of so many armed officers made him uneasy. Guns, tension and slippery bad guys, just a combination for trouble.

Officer Clarke greeted John and Sherlock as they first arrived on the crime scene, another abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. John didn't have to be a genius of deduction to see that most the officers looked on edge, and a little overworked. No doubt most working longer shifts to maintain the safety of their coworkers.

"Alright everyone clear out, the room is secure, let the man do his job!" Sergeant Donovan directed the PC's in the room to maintain a perimeter outside. John shot her a grateful look, it was getting hard to be around the new Donovan. He almost missed the barbed verbal sparring between his friend and the usually ill-tempered Sergeant.

John kneeled down, "Single gun shot to the head, lack of blood said they were transported here, killed at another location."

"Correct John. Had the bomb squad not trampled the scene the we could have been able to spot drag marks to confirm this, maybe tire tracks outside." Sherlock growled.

John tried to keep Sherlock's temper in check. "Sherlock-"

"Alright, John come along we'll need to go down to Barts while Molly does an autopsy."

"We'll meet you there Sherlock." Lestrade signaled for Anderson and his team to come in.

John and Sherlock moved past the crowd of men, "They are just making themselves bigger targets. If this bomber wanted to take out a significant amount of officers this crowd would make it easy." Sherlock sneered.

"Sherlock they are doing the best they can. Everyone is a little tense. This isn't easy-"

"Clarke!" someone called out down the corridor, both men paused. "Dammit! He's not answering his radio. You two! Go see what he's up to-" one of the higher ranking PC's instructed the two uniformed officers who were standing in the corridor helping set up lamps and equipment to better light the scene.

"Yes sir." John and Sherlock paused, a frown played across the dark haired detective's face.

"Officer DOWN! Call an ambulance!" one of the PC's yelled over the radio and John and Sherlock didn't hesitate to move in that direction.

"I'm a Doctor." John stated breathlessly, both he and Sherlock had sprinted down the corridor, finding a flashlight on the ground. John had picked it up and he heard the sound of wheezing, John knew this sound. The sound of someone desperate for air, when they'd approached one of the officers pulled a gun holding it on the doctor and the detective.

"Sorry, Doc!" the man holding a gun put it down. The other officer was kneeling besides the gasping PC. It wasn't Clarke, John could tell right off, as did Sherlock, who now moved around the corridor studying the dirty ground.

"He's been stabbed, he's going into shock." John removed his coat.

"Hang in there. Just hang on, don't panic, slow your breathing you're going to be alright." John kept his voice calm and steady, locking his brown eyes onto the wide frantic stare of the injured young man.

"He's Clarke's partner. Josh Riley." The PC kneeling down informed John shakily.

"Alright then," John could see where the knife had gone in, several times, "Josh, listen to me, I need you to stay calm. I'm going to put a little pressure on this. The paramedics are on their way." Then turning to the pale young officer next to him "I need whatever you have as a first aid kit." John instructed calmly the young man nodded and jumped up from where he'd kneeled down.

"Sir! You can't go alone." The other officer holding a radio tried to halt Sherlock.

"Foot prints are leading in that direction, he could be getting away. Either you stay here or you come with me! But officer Clarke has been dragged out of here unconscious possibly bleeding by two men."

"Yes, sir." The young man held the radio and called for more back up.

"Sherlock be careful!" John motioned for him to take his gun. "I'll be behind you as soon as I get him stabilized."

"Here you go Doc." Officer Roberts held a first aid kit, several other officers headed down in the direction that Sherlock had gone in.

Lestrade wasn't far behind Donovan shouted into her radio for the road around the warehouse blocked off, in an attempt to keep the culprits from leaving the scene. She glanced at the uniformed officer besides John, adding quickly "No one gets through without being checked! That includes all uniformed and plain clothes DI's and Officers!"

"Understood Sergeant." Came the staticy reply from the radio.

"Is he going to make it Doc?" Donovan met John's determined blue eyes.

"How long for the ambulance?" John avoided the question. Donovan didn't like that, not a good sign.

"Officer Roberts stay here with the Doctor until the paramedics show."

"Yes ma'am." Roberts nodded. "Doctor I-"

"I understand Sergeant be careful." Donovan and two more uniformed men who'd shown up made their way in the direction Lestrade had gone.

"He's my friend. Josh is the worst poker player, and the git owes me 10 quid." Roberts placed his hand over the white gauze applying pressure where the Doctor instructed.

"Five-" the officer coughed.

"Interest, Josh interest." The other officer took his friends hand.

"Josh. Did you see them?" the injured man was pale even in the low light he was a sickening white, John could feel shock setting in the man was shaking. Still he tried to stay conscious and focused on answering the Doctor's question.

"No. Clarke?" John and Roberts shared a quick look, instead of a reply, Roberts danced around the subject.

"Figures you'd do anything to get out of paying me back you ass." John checked officer Riley's pulse.

"You're doing great. Just hang in there officer. Stay awake."

"Yeah, mate no sleeping on the job!"

"Piss off Roberts-" to John's relief the paramedics showed up, he gave quick instructions, officer Riley followed them out. John bent to pick up his coat, he sent a text to Sherlock.

_Ambulance arrived. Taking injured officer now._ _Where are you? Any luck?-JW_

"Hello Doctor, did you miss me? I meant to visit you in the hospital but I guess it was after hours and the hospital was quite strict about it. It shocked me just how." Davy held a gun to the back of the Doctor's head. "Now don't move. I'll take your phone." John couldn't say anything he wouldn't have a chance something hard hit him against the side of his head, the last thing he heard was the sound of his phone ringing, or maybe it was his ears.

_**~0~** _

Sherlock felt his phone vibrate he reached into his coat pocket to check the incoming text. They'd found Clarke unconscious a nasty blow to the back of his head but it looked like he'd been left behind just dumped. "Boot prints indicate he'd been dragged, the position of the body signified who ever did this had been in a hurry."

"That doesn't make any sense, why would they attack one officer and leave Clarke." Lestrade ran a hand through his salt and pepper colored hair. "They didn't even bind his hands-"

"Maybe we scared them off." Donovan offered, holding her radio.

A sickening feeling started to take hold of the consulting detective.

"Unless they only wanted us to follow, they practically left signs as to were we could find the body."

"Why then target Riley? They didn't even make sure he was dead before dragging Clarke off it just seems way off pattern." Lestrade sighed; Clarke thank god had a pulse. "Not that I'm ungrateful that he's still alive."

"It's like they weren't even trying." An uneasy feeling started to nag at the dark haired detective, something he wasn't seeing, Sherlock reached for his phone, reading the text sparked in him a sudden realization, and it hit him like a brick to his stomach.

"Stupid! How could we not see? Lestrade! It's John! They wanted John! He staid behind with the injured officer, we took the bait! " Sherlock started to run back the direction they'd come in, he made a quick call to john holding his breath until the call connected.

DI Lestrade shouted for Sally to stay with the unconscious Clarke, and he tried to keep up with the long strides of the consulting detective.

"John! Stay with the officer-"

"Oh, you must be looking for the Doctor. He's not available right now. Should I take a message?" Came a strange gravely voice.

"Who is this?"

"You're the clever one, you make the deduction."

"If you hurt him-"

" Looks like I've found myself a doctor. He comes with excellent references from the British Government no less. Don't worry Detective, he wont be treated any better or worse than we did the others. "

"I'll find you."

"That I highly doubt. And if or when you do, I fear all the kings men and all the kings horses wont be able to put him back together again. My regards to the family." And the line went dead.

Sherlock and Lestrade arrived where John should have been, John was no where to be seen, foot prints everywhere, Sherlock could only deduce the direction John's abductors carried him in. He couldn't see John's prints leading out so they had to have carried him on something. And no one passed them in the corridor so "They have to be outside"

"Sherlock there are 12 officers out there, no way they got passed my men." Lestrade yelled into his radio "NO ONE IN OR OUT!"

"Sir, there hasn't been anyone leaving since Sergeant Donovan declared we check all vehicles and ID's of uniformed and plain clothes officers. The only ones here were the two ambulances."

"Two?" Sherlock halted, his heart threatening to explode from his chest.

"When?"

"To take out the two injured officers. They were the only two to leave the scene-"


	10. Minor Details

**CHAPTER 10. MINOR DETAILS  
**

Davy snapped the picture with his mobile, the doctor was unconscious and very much alive, the dark haired man couldn't wait to get him somewhere private. Already having an idea where to start the cutting, Davy had always favored his knife.

" _ **Kill him."**_ Was all the new incoming text read. Sure, Davy would definitely do this after he had a bit of fun.

"Pack it in boys! Let's find somewhere a little more private." He slammed the trunk of the newly acquired squad car, locking in the unconscious doctor.

"Yeah. I'll drive." Ryan unbuttoned the paramedic uniform trading it in for a crisp constable uniform, discarding their most recent disguises at the side of the road, the second member of Davy's crew Nick did the same lighting up a cigarette. Davy climbed into the back seat of the stolen police car, his two friends into the front. To anyone traveling past it looked like two officers with a prisoner in the back, the best disguises were the kind you could wear out in the open. This was Davy's favorite game to play, it proved his cleverness.

_**~0~** _

Mister Thobius Hughes was a chess player, a damn good one at that. After all politics, was another game of chess, but on a fairly larger scale. The politicians, heads of government, states and military all pieces in the game. He wasn't a fool, he knew his strengths he knew his pawns and though he'd moved his pieces into advantageous positions Mycroft Holmes was just a better player. Thobius always regretted the fact you couldn't choose family like employees, and a promise was a promise. He wouldn't kill his nephew, but he would use him as a sacrifice.

True Thobius had originally deemed his nephew's plan as viable, but now that the heat was on, it was best to cut all losses. Mycroft Holmes could not be touched at this point, but you cant blame a man for trying.

The soon to be ex government official knew only a handful of things about his secretive adversary. One of them being that he had only one weakness and that was his pride.

The Iceman would lose much face if his brother's quest for vengeance got out of hand. Poor Mycroft would have to focus all his energy on the impudent younger brother, just to preserve his own precious reputation. And oh, Thobius didn't doubt the younger Holmes would go rogue when word reached him that his favorite little pet had been brutally murdered. So, the soon to retire government official, did what any good Chess player would, he offered up his pawn. Because while Sherlock was out for blood, his older brother would be trying to rein him in, and at the same time trying to maintain some appearance of control.

This amused Mr. Hughes, his only regret being he wouldn't be around to watch. No matter, he would use the time to get the hell out of the country.

Underestimating Mycroft Holmes was dangerous. Being just as capable a government man as the noted "Iceman", Hughes knew when the game was at an end. The Sharks were circling smelling blood in the water, time to offer them a slower moving target.

Reflecting over his mistakes, Thobius tried to find where in his original plan, things started to go wrong. It seemed easy, thus far, and that should have been the first clue, but too late in the game did he realized the false information leaked directly to his office, that's what he gets for delegating delicate matters to one of his minions.

This was why he grabbed his briefcase caring all documents for a new identity and the banking information for his accounts in the Cayman Islands. Mycroft could have this game but this was far from over. The government official tossed his mobile out the window of his car. Just as the incoming call from his nephew flashed across the screen.

High ranking Government officials such as himself, could always find work. Many governments would pay for his advice in matters of war and state, or even pay for some of the secrets he knew or could arrange for others to know.

"Alright Johnson, the private airfield."

"Yes sir." The chauffeur, nodded and the expensive black car sped off down the private country drive.

Thobius glanced back at his old family home, he wasn't a man attached to positions but damned if anyone else could have what was his. A private smirk playing across his face, he pulled out his new mobile connecting a call to one of his security men. "Tell the boys to take the rest of the day off. We are going on holiday. Oh, don't forget to turn on the security system. I'm sure we'll have visitors shortly."

_**~0~** _

"No!" Sherlock growled flinging the stack of photographs and documents at his older brother, both men were standing now, with a large expensive oak desk between them, but it might as well have been a sliver of ice, for what good it could do to hold either man back from leaning forward dangerously.

"Sherlock-" Mycroft started to reprimand his petulant little brother, when the DI interrupted.

"Now is not the time!" Greg's outburst  surprised both Holmes brothers who held cold thunder storm like glares. "Mycroft. How reliable is this source?" Greg couldn't hide the edge in his voice.

"Very DI. This is the information we received. Just moments ago. John Watson is dead and those are the pictures to prove it."

"I wont believe it! Not until I see a body!" Sherlock sneered. "You will understand my hesitation and distrust of course, with your track record. For being so honest. And let's not leave out the incompetence that your officers have displayed so far!"

"You forget little brother how John was left vulnerable for an attack. How could **_you_** not have seen it for the obvious diversion that it was? You practically gift wrapped the Doctor for them! All that was missing was a red bow!" Mycroft clutched the edge of his desk, not caring that his voice no doubt was drawing attention around the closed door of his office, the other Diogenes Club members were used to his going ons he should think by now.

"Gentlemen!" Greg bravely decided to break this up,  moving to stand with his back facing Mycroft  and pushing gently but firmly on the dark haired detectives chest, forcing him to take a step back. Greg knew a rising storm when he saw one, after all the domestics he had to handle when he was just a constable. Although both brothers were known for their preference of verbal jabs and cruel wit, he wasn't going to take the chance that this could lead to blows.

Both Holmes brothers were staring daggers at each other, a definite chill in the air. "This isn't helping! John wouldn't want this-he wouldn't-" Greg tried to catch his breath, pushing the morbid idea nagging at the back of his mind that John Watson was gone, the ex soldier wouldn't have thoughts or wishes now, he was dead.

"He wouldnt want for his friends to blame each other or themselves. Sherlock." Greg turned to the younger Holmes, "Sherlock your brother isn't the enemy." Then back to Mycroft "You cant blame Sherlock for this, you cant believe he would knowingly leave John open for attack. Christ there were 12 officers on scene and they still managed to get past us."

Greg felt responsible, he'd failed the Doctor, God help him he'd failed his friend. "I might be a simple minded DI with a State education but this reeks of professionals. Now why would professionals target John or even the yard? What are we dealing with Mycroft? Anarchists, the run of the mill Terrorists or does this have something to do with Sherlock's little hiatus? Be straight with us."

Mycroft straightened now, adjusting his expensive gray suit, his face reflecting the usual air of aristocracy that the DI found so damn infuriating. "They're freelancers well at least the ones who tried to kill the doctor at the hospital. It seems one of our own department heads allowed ambition to cloud his judgment. He wasn't targeting the Yard for the reasons you would think. It was all just a power play, several bombs were set off across Europe as a diversion meant specifically for me. It wasn't until your offices ran the DNA that we confirmed our suspicions. Those victims at the bomb site were agents of ours working under a Thobius Hughes, he supervisors one of our branches in the government one that is just a little more minor than my own."  
Mycroft ignored the snort of indignation coming from his younger brother.

"We are not certain of his motives as of yet but it seems that he wished to prove my inapt ability to keep the country secure of terrorist threats, foreign and domestic. The plan was to cause sever casualties and then fear amongst those enforcing the law. Unfortunately this was not the case due to a certain Doctor,  that so happened to be on scene, the right place at the right time. This reason alone put the doctor on their radar."

Lestrade swore now running a hand over his exhausted face, he wanted to sit down, it was all to much to take in, innocent lives had been taken senselessly and by those who were supposed to protect it's people. And for what? A promotion? He would never understand politics.

"We are handling an internal investigation-"

"None of this matters we have a killer to find, before he blows something else up. So I suggest we pull our resources and find the bloody bastard responsible." Lestrade cut the British Government off again before he could stop himself. Damn the consequences, more lives were at stake.

"Do what you must." Sherlock straightened his dark coat. "I'll be looking for John."

"Sherlock you cant go off on your own! That's the last thing we need-" Lestrade's plea was cut short by his phones ringing "oh damn it what now?" he answered in a clipped tone "Detective Inspector Lestrade." Sherlock rolled his eyes, he was going to take the opportunity to leave but something in the way the DI tensed up, his unshaven face lost color "Where? We're on our way!"

"What?" Sherlock demanded almost immediately. "John?"

"There's been a shooting two officers down-another officer on scene said it was two men dressed as PC's they had a squad car everything. Our constables Jenkins and Porter asked if the imposters needed assistance it seemed they had two suspects one was putting up a good fight, the other feigned fear. The imposters waited for our men to come further into the alley, before firing on them. A patrol following protocol stopped when Porter and Jenkins did, they caught sight of the squad car and figured Porter and Jenkins were doing the same security check offering back up, they almost drove off, but they heard shots fired, so they called it in."

"John." Sherlock felt relief flood through him."Did they-uh? He's alive?"

"They were last seen running-no positive ID for the doctor, but it seems the downed officers where bandaged up rather quickly by a stranger who then shot off after the fake PC's."

"Shut up! Lets go!" Sherlock barked half way out of the room, he wasn't surprised that Mycroft stayed behind, nor did he care.

* * *


	11. SMALL PLACES

 

**CHAPTER 11. SMALL PLACES**

John blinked against the darkness, his head pounding, the ground beneath him vibrating, he tried to sit up only to hit his already aching head on the roof of something very metal and very, very low. A cold fear started to crawl into his skin, he let his hands deafly feel around. "A trunk." John groaned, the sounds of tires on cement, and traffic muffled but undeniable, he was in a trunk.

He tried to bring his knees up, maybe kick at the roof no matter how ridiculous and futile, he had to try. Already he felt a cold sweat start to coat his forehead, there was air, it was ridiculous to think he wouldn't have enough oxygen, but still John had never liked small cramped spaces. He started to kick now, and yell hoping someone would hear, perhaps a pedestrian crossing at a red light, or another car anyone.

The trunk was bare of any kind of weapon, just more rope, these bastards hadn't even tied his hands and feet. He guessed they'd hoped he'd stay knocked out for the duration of the ride. Well John Watson wasn't going to go down easily.

The muffled voices of his kidnappers could be heard through the trunk, John strained to hear the conversation over the pounding in his head and the heavy thud of his rapidly beating heart.

"Dammit, pull over into a side alley, we better shut him up before someone gets suspicious. Nick handle it! Ryan open my door. No one kill him, not yet at least!"

The doctor waited, this would be his chance, and he knew he only had one, even now it would be tricky. The doors of the car opening, he counted three doors, two slammed, someone was moving to the rear of the car. _Steady soldier, wait for it._

"No! Wait!" Davy's command was a second too late, as soon as the trunk popped open the Doctor took the opportunity to kick the lid up catching the idiot Nick right square to the face, he fell back stunned from the force, a hand to his face, blood flowing out from his nose and down his chin.

"FUCK!" he groaned, blinded by the pain and of course a busted nose did tend to haze ones vision. John launched himself at the second man dressed as a police officer coming at him.

Davy glared down at Nick still sitting on his ass holding his bleeding nose. "You think next time you could maybe hold a gun on the man, maybe have someone cover you. Idiot."

"Don't you move! Hands up!" Davy turned his newly bleached blond head to look humorously at a police officer, a real one, holding a radio he could hear the man calling for back up.

"You have to be kidding me." Davy couldn't help but laugh.

"I will shoot! I said step away from the officer."

"Alright, alright." Davy looked down at his friend a grin of amusement on Nicks aching face. "I'm going. It wasn't me. Just an accident officer."

"Sure it was, on your knees, now! And keep those hands on the back of your head blondie!" Davy nodded getting down, he heard without turning as the constables partner went to help subdue John. Now this was getting exciting.

"You alright?" Nick nodded standing up he walked over to the cop holding a gun on his friend.

"Yeah, the wanker caught me off guard. Good thing you showed."

"Cant be to careful with cop killers out on the street. Benny and Rich should be rolling by but I think we can handle this."

"Yeah, yeah of course." Nick stood directly behind the unsuspecting officer, glancing down the alley to see if he could see a cop car. "Could you help me get him into the car then? My nose is broken I cant see worth shit."

"Yeah, mate yeah." Nick followed the man keeping an eye over his shoulder he could see the second cop car. They should finish this and quick.

"No! You don't understand! They aren't cops!" John held one of his kidnappers in a choke hold he wasn't going to let the bastard go.

"I said! Let him go or I will shoot!" John couldn't believe his luck, his head pounding; he must have been slow, forgetting temporarily about the other two armed men until the sound of gunfire snapped his attention and that of the officer in front of him, the man he held in a choke hold used the diversion to his advantage.

John received a hard elbow to his left side and this caused him to loosen his grip gasping for air, he hit the cement.

"Thanks officer. He's pretty tough for a little guy." Ryan grabbed his gun that had fallen in the struggle he fired at the confused officer. John kicked the back of the imposters leg just as the gun fired, resulting in the bullet hitting the shocked officer in the shoulder instead of in the chest.

"Boss!" Nick ducked someone was shooting the other cops had showed, "We have to get out of here, ditch the car! They're blocking the alley exit."

Davy sent a hard kick to the wounded officer, hard enough to knock him back and out, he wanted to stomp the now unconscious mans face but Nick was pulling him back.

"Boss!" another bullet whizzing just over their heads. "We have to get out of here! You know more are on the way! Ryan leave him! Lets go! We'll get him later!" Nick returned fire down the alley.

Ryan didn't hesitate he left the two men in the alley, self-preservation always won out over revenge.

"Here put pressure on that!" John crawled over to the downed officer, pulling his brown jumper off and placing it over the man's bleeding shoulder, the cool spring air on his skin felt sobering and for a minute the fuzz that accompanied his head ache seemed to ebb.

"What?"

" Please listen your back ups coming, I'm not letting these bastard go! Not this time." The cop frowned. "You'll be fine just keep that pressure on it."

"Wait-"

"Trust me I'm a doctor, and that bullet went straight through, you're lucky it wasn't higher or more to the right. Mind if I borrow this?" John took the officers discarded weapon and ducked down again "Do you think you can tell them to hold their fire?" the cop looked on John confused "Sod this. Just remember what I said!" That said the downed police officer watched the blond man in the white blood stained t-shirt disappear cautiously down the narrowing alleyway.


	12. FRIENDLY FIRE

 

**CHAPTER 12. FRIENDLY FIRE  
**

It didn't take the DI and consulting detective long to reach the alleyway, several squad cars and two ambulances where blocking the area. Sherlock didn't wait for Lestrade's vehicle to stop he opened the door and headed for the paramedics a quick glance said neither injured man was John, except one of them was holding something familiar, a hideous brown lump of cloth.

"Wait!" Sherlock pushed past two officers, the paramedics paused looking him over trying to figure out most likely who he was.

"You! Where's John? Wher's Doctor Watson?"

"Who?" the injured man was already given pain medication, his eyes glossy. Sherlock leaned in closer grabbing the bloody garment.

"This belonged to Dr. Watson-"

"Oh, he was a doctor then? I didn't-he took my gun and ran after or with the other three. Told me to put pressure on this. Nice bloke for a criminal."  
"He's not a criminal you idiot-" Sherlock growled.

"Well he sure was dressed like the other one." Sherlock rolled his eyes the man wasn't making sense. He glanced down the alley, his brain fired off the mathematics of the situation and worked in the most predictable routes the cop impersonators would take. The map of London in his head lit up, but before he could decide on a destination the radio belonging to one of the PC's standing near the ambulance broke his concentration.

"Shots fired! Officers in pursuit of suspect. White male blond hair white t-shirt and jeans-"

"Who do you have at that garage?" DI Lestrade demanded of one of the officers on scene.

"No one sir, no ones called it in-"

"Get officers there! Let them know that the suspects are wearing police uniforms!"

Sherlock hadnt heard the location of the garage but Lestrade was already moving through the throng of useless people.

"Henrick's Garage it's-"

"Yes I know two blocks down! It'll be faster if we run." The consulting detective was already ahead of the DI, his legs longer and his speed augmented by his determination. Something kept nagging at his mind while he sprinted across a busy street, something important but John's face kept popping up in his mind. He tried to force the fear, yes it was fear, fear that John would be lost, or was already injured, fear he was too late, he needed to concentrate. Sentiment was such an aggravating thing, anyone else he would have been able to shut it out, but John, John wasn't anyone else.

He arrived at the parking garage ahead of two cop cars, he could hear the out of breath DI yelling at them when they moved to stop the detective.

"Spread out! Don't fire! Doctor Watson is in there somewhere-" Those words struck Sherlock, he recalled the drugged up officers statement. _"was dressed like the other one"_

"John! Lestrade, John the description!"

"Sherlock? What?" The DI tried to catch his breath. He coughed, his years of smoking starting to show that and he wasn't as young as he used to be.

"John he's in a white t-shirt, Jeans and he's blond! Tell them not to shoot!" Lestrade's face went white, understanding what Sherlock was saying he yelled into his radio but another transmission was cutting him off.

"Suspect on third tier! Armed! Officer is down!"

"Hold your fire do not shoot-"

_**~0~** _

John let his temper get the best of him, he'd followed the two men into the parking garage, he should have waited for Lestrade and Sherlock back in the alley but he couldn't let these bastards slip away not again.

A security guard for the parking garage, called over to him giving away his position he should have expected it, now realizing the blood staining his t-shirt, had to look suspect not to mention the blood staining the side of his head from the little love tap compliments of his kidnapper. He ignored the officer and ducked down behind a car as the two kidnappers turned to fire at him.

"Oi! What the hell-"

"Oh Doctor Watson you cant mind your own business!" Davy shouted cutting the security guards words off, he fired in John's direction.

"The cops are on the way! You two might as well give up!" John fired back, moving between the cars keeping the blond man in his sights, he felt a bullet ricochet past his forearm, he glared over at the overweight security officer."Don't just stand there idiot! Call the police and for Christ sake get down!" John didn't mean to sound irritated but the other man was weaponless. What the hell was he going to do with a damn flashlight, blind the other two? "Now!" John barked when the large man in a white shirt and security badge just stood staring at John in shock.

"If we are going we're sure as hell taking you with us!" Davy reloaded his weapon, shouting over the hood of a car. Nick smiled at him and the two split up weaving between cars. "Don't kill him Nick, I want to." Davy whispered low, the sound of sirens nearing, echoing up the tiers of the garage.

"Fine, but I do get a shot at least. Nothing fatal." Davy shrugged, he kept the Doctor's attention by taunting him.

"Oh Doctor? Tell me-" He squeezed off two shots, the bullets cracking a cars window. "How long have you and that dear curly haired detective been dating?"

"He's not my boyfriend!" John returned fire.

"Isn't he? Huh-guess I lost out on twenty quid." John swore under his breath. "So are you just suicidal or are you always this noble? How much does your brother in law pay you to keep his brother entertained and protected? "

"You can talk all you want! But you and I both know you wont make it out of here! You're going to pay for those lives you took!"

"Am I?" Davy could see the blond man duck behind a white delivery van, he fired again. He heard the shocked cry of pain, ha "Gotcha." He thought to himself nearing the van, he could see the Doctor's feet poking out, he had knocked him down good. Moving around the back of the van he was ready to finish the job except instead of finding an injured Doctor he caught a bullet to his shoulder then his leg.

"Son of a- YOU BASTARD!"

"Hey, I never said I was going to play fair." John stood up now, kicking the other man's gun out of reach, it slide under a red car before resting against the tire of a black motorcycle.

The Army Doctor dug into his back pocket for the zip ties he'd always kept on him, just for situations such as these. He tied the mans hands behind him, not at all bothered by the cry of pain from the wounded man, "By the way nice hair. Oh, looks like a nasty scar there on your face. It gives you character it's an improvement."

"Fuck off!" Davy growled through his teeth, his white t-shirt stained red from the bullet in his shoulder. John was standing now, still holding his gun, he leaned against the red car catching his breath he laughed before taunting the cop killer.

"I'm sure someone will look at that-"

"I'll kill you!"

"I don't think so."

"Oh, maybe he wont but I think I will." John swore now, how could he have forgotten the other assailant, damn. Rookie mistake Watson.

Sherlock was definitely never going to let him live this one down, supposing John survived this situation.

"Slow now Doc, toss that gun away. I wont hesitate to use mine." John kept his gun on the now grinning man looking up from he pavement at him.

"I don't think so, I'll shoot before you can. You think I wont kill him?"

"Drop it doc."

"Kill him Nick!"

"You can try Nick, but I'll shoot your little boss man right in the head and we both know I will."

"I don't think you will."

"Don't push me."

"Shoot him Nick! I'm bleeding to death here!"

"Still wearing that huh?" John's eyes moved over the stolen police uniform.

"Why not, it suits me." Mr. Busted nose aka Nick shrugged casually.

"You might as well shoot me cause I 'm not letting him out of here-or you."

Nick glanced down the boss, a grin teasing the edges of his bruised face.

"Alright doc, alright. Here, take it." He offered the gun.

"Put it on the ground and kick it to your left." Nick moved away from the narrow space between both cars as if having every intention to comply. "Don't move!" John growled steeping around his already subdued opponent. He kept Nick in his sights.

"So _untrusting_." Nick shrugged sighing in resignation "fine, have it your way." He went to throw it as the Doctor asked but instead of letting it go he arch his arm and the weapon flew at the Doctor's forehead, John instinctively flinched and blocked the heavy hand gun. Nick took this diversion and tackled the doctor.

John hit the hood of the red car before falling onto the hard pavement, thrown off balance he lost his wepon. Unable to think about that with the wind knocked out of him, trying to recover from the jolt and lack of oxygen, a hard fist made contact high on his cheek. Followed by hard left to his solar plexus. The heavier weight lifted and John moved to roll onto his side, he sucked in air, willing his lungs to accept it. This was action cut short by another hard kick to the ribs.

"Well not so tough now are you Mr. Super Agent?" Nick panted. "I owe you a broken nose!"

"Piss off!" John grunted he caught the foot aiming for his head, pulling up on it angrily. The two of them where now rolling around in front of the badly dented red car.

Both men spotted the discarded  next to the tire of a black motorcycle. And both men dove over each other, scrambling to get to it first.

The military trained Doctor didnt hold back, instead he brought his elbow back hard against his larger opponents already broken nose. Making the thug cry out, "FUCK!"

At the same time the tied up Davy could see the struggle, though his shoulder ached he managed to wiggle till his feet were near Nick's 9mm, he kicked it panting from the strain. "NICK!" he grunted his voice echoing off the cement walls.

Both men springing to their feet, facing one another, with a gun in hand. John spit out blood, and his foe held a hand to his nose, his other steady and comfortable with the weapon.

"Looks like we're at an impasse doc." John didn't have a chance to reply, a booming voice of authority echoed loudly over his panting, and causing him to wince from the pounding in his aching head.

"Put it down!" John froze, Nick had a smile on his face.

"He's armed!" he through over his shoulder to the officer directly to his left.

"He's not a cop!" John tried to explain, his voice hoarse, his legs shaky from the struggle.

"Don't listen to him, he shot the Doctor-caught him tying the poor man up!" Nick grinned now, eyes sparkling.

"Help! Over here!" Davy called out weakly, "I'm bleeding. Oh thank god you're here officers!" John could see the plan in his enemies head, read him like a book, things looked worse, than a bit not good.

"Stay back!" John ordered, the two young officers had no idea the of the danger.

"Drop your weapon!" Nick took a step back aiming his gun at John.

'You move and I'll shoot you." The army Doctor growled low enough that only Mr. Busted nose cold hear.

"Now, that wouldn't be any fun doc would it." Nick took another step back.

"I said put it down!" Nick did his best impersonation of a constable. After all growing up he'd had more than enough experience.

"Do as he says sir! You're in enough trouble as it is!" John couldn't take his eyes off the danger in front of him. He could hear someone speaking into a radio "Suspect cornered third tier, he's armed. Request back up and an ambulance."

"Lower your weapon and get down on your knees!" the officer was standing beside Nick.

It was all so slow from there, just as two very familiar voices shouted "NO" or was it his name, maybe both, the criminal in a cops uniform turned slightly his 9mm positioned readily to shoot just another young officer.

Without hesitation or thought to his own life, John pulled the trigger and in return so did the younger Police constable. The Doctor didn't feel the bullet tear through him at first, adrenaline was still flowing, he needed to know that the younger man was fine, and he received his answer as his kidnapper fell over, a shot to the head.

"You alright?" John asked releasing a shaky breath. The younger constable glanced down eyes wide at the dead officer, then back to John.

"John!" Sherlock was breathless, "John!"

"Don't shoot dammit!" Lestrade growled "that's the Doctor!" but it was too late, John frowned he followed the constables wide eyed stare, something warm spreading through the middle of his white t-shirt.

"I'm sorry. I thought-"

"Good shot." John laughed to himself, he dropped the gun from his hand, the clatter made him flinch, he put a hand to the burning in the middle of his chest, bringing his palm up confused by the dark red or maybe the stickiness staining his fingers, " Damn. That's blood." was the last thing he remembered saying before the bliss of liquid darkness pulled him under.


	13. THE IMPORTANCE OF TIME

 

**CHAPTER 13. THE IMPORTANCE OF TIME**

Captain Watson heard his name, coming from a demanding voice. Urging him to wake up, irritably he opened his eyes, expecting to see a blazing hot sun overhead, anticipating the feel of heavy dry desert air all around him, sand against the back of his neck, his hands and whatever exposed pieces of his skin that were unprotected by a uniform or helmet.

No, no heat, in fact he was rather cold, and the voice started to become even more urgent. Someone was ordering him to wake up, had he over slept, where did he know that tone? The chill of this place in the dark where he drifted urged him to stay, but he had to open his eyes, never before had his lids ever felt so heavy. Well maybe ten more minutes of rest, that wouldn't hurt anyone. Except now that voice was closer and even more desperate, so urgent, it refused to be ignored.

"John!" And John knew it, he knew that damn voice, knew the unfocused and blurred image of the man looking down at him.

"Ssh-" John tried to reply, but his mouth felt clumsy and full of cotton balls. The Army Doctor wanted to sit up, wanted to roll off his bed, except he was sure he wasn't on his bed. Why was it so cold?

Someone else was yelling, and then talking. He could recognize Greg's scratchy voice anywhere. Why were they looking at him like that? Had he fallen, well that's embarrassing, maybe he should calm their worried glances by sitting up. No need to worry guys, nothing to see here.

This idea proved to be a bad one almost immediately, the pain that greeted him nearly caused the curtain of darkness to envelop him again, but he pushed through, wanting to keep the worried faces of his friends in focus. Still with that first shock of white hot pain accompanied the intake of air, something his body did on it's own, as if he'd been holding his breath. He knew that breathing hurt, and if it wasn't so bloody important he wouldn't do it again.

"John! Can you hear me? Hang on?" That was Sherlock, what the hell was he going on about now? Did he have to be so loud; the Doctor wanted to reprimand his friend for startling him awake, pulling John away from what could have been a fitful dream. Well, if the doctor could remember it that is.

"He's breathing." Someone else he'd never met before, was talking. John coughed, and something was on his face around his mouth he turned his head to move away from it. The smell of plastic invaded his nostrils, had it always been there? Why now was he just noticing it? Further more what was everyone going on about? What had Sherlock done now that had everyone even the DI worried? Better wake up and smooth it over John.

"John?" The strange woman spoke slowly, this irritated the ex soldier. He wasn't a child. "You're going to be alright."

"Well of course he was. He was fine. Why was she speaking to him as if he was deaf? Or some how impaired. And on top of that, John wondered why the sky above shifted like flickering florescent lights.

"John, can you hear me?" Sherlock was leaning down closer, their foreheads almost touching. People will definitely talk now.

John just wanted to sleep, but then his own eyes met that of Sherlock's, the familiar gray, except they weren't so passive, concern clearly displayed, and John wondered what his friend was worried about. Were they in danger? Had something happened? "Stay with me John." John felt the pull of darkness, a promise of rest, an escape form the pain. If it weren't for Sherlock's urgent voice, he could be sleeping peacefully. And then he took another deep breath, why did he keep forgetting to breathe? And damn if these attempts to satisfy his oxygen-deprived lungs, didn't hurt. So much pain, and he knew this pain oh, how one could never forget this ache.

"Dammit John!" Sherlock growled. John couldn't respond, he was too busy identifying where he had been shot. Yes, definitely shot, he knew this familiar throbbing, the burning the aching that intensified the more he tried to focus on it.

He groaned, and the woman was back, pressing something over his chest, he wanted to scream from the jolt of white hot electrifying pain that she caused. All that escaped him in protest, was a pathetic groan. Or at least he was sure that was his. Why did everything feel so out of focus, shifting from bright to dim?

John wanted to pull the plastic cup that covered his nose and mouth away, but his arms felt heavy and the mystery women was pressing harder into his chest, he resisted the urge to shove her away. Not that he had the strength.

"John, you're going to be fine. You were shot. We are on our way to the hospital. "

"Yuh-you okay?" John managed to whisper and to his surprise relief flooded the pale face of his friend.

"Yes. Now, I am. Just stay awake."

"Stta-tory of my lif-" John managed breathlessly. "mmm fine." He tried to offer a smile. His friend only nodded in reply, his hands cold took one of Johns' and the doctor squeezed weakly. Vaguely remembering the DI had been there just moments ago.

There were many things in Sherlock's life he'd dissected and picked apart until he found out what made it tick. Be it a frog or his fathers pocket watch, even Mycroft's favorite remote controlled airplane. It had been funny putting it together, rewiring the controls to perform the opposite of what his big brother would want. Instead of going right it went left, instead of looping up it dove straight down. Sherlock had laughed for a good twenty minutes, until he found something else belonging to Mycroft to focus on and destroy.

Even people had been easy to figure out, in a glance he could tell you their favorite color, marital status, profession and which hand was the dominant one. The consulting detective prided himself on deducing an individual, and no one had surprised him yet, every single individual that he'd picked apart, and he'd come to know albeit briefly, unlocking their inner secrets and workings soon after they were suddenly dull, dull and dull.

People in general were entirely self serving, selfish, sentimental, and their vision was blurred and handicapped by their attachment to things or others, such emotions were useless, and the ones who weren't, well they were just as dull and irritating even more so for allowing themselves to play victim.

This is how he viewed people, not ever giving them more than a quick thought nothing worth storing in his mind palace. In fact their encounter would go directly into the discard file. Except the Man who was lying there bleeding profusely, in the back of a speeding ambulance.

This man, John Watson, a hero, yes Sherlock believed in heroes. Actually he never believed in heroes until the days after meeting the broken army doctor.

The consulting detective could never pin point the first moment when he came to this conclusion or exactly what one thing John had done to earn this title. No, it was an accumulation of events, of actions and reactions. Loyal, patient, and compassionate, that was his doctor.

Doctor Watson would offer a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold, compassion, that was John, John was warmth and light in the cold darkness of any room. This came so naturally for the shorter man, this urge to protect those around him, emotionally, and physically. John Watson, the one man Sherlock had never found doubt in, because John always kept his word, and he expected the same in return.

"John, don't worry. They will not get away from us. They will pay every last one of them." He wasn't sure if John heard him over the loud siren or the female paramedics instructions to the driver.

"Tell them to have several pints of O negative ready!"

John only squeezed Sherlock's hand, more out of reassurance, even now he was trying to keep Sherlock calm and off edge.

_If you could see yourself John Watson, you wouldn't be trying to tell me to be calm, that everything was going to be fine, that it all looks worse than it really was. If our positions were reversed you would know what to do.  
_

Sherlock wasn't a doctor but he knew enough to recognize bad very bad, and his doctor's condition was more than bad. John's heart had already stopped once, and they had an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth.

"How much longer till the hospital?" Sherlock growled his attention never leaving John's eyes.

"ETA two minutes." The woman snapped back at the gray-eyed detective.

"Two minutes John hang on for two minutes." gray eyes pleaded with blue, the blue could only offer a tired sympathy, but that was not reassurance.

Sherlock swore as soon as his friend was in the clear, that he would be finding those responsible and they would have wished for Sebastian Moran's fate, what had happened to Moran would only look like a kind mercy compared to what he had in mind for those that had a hand in hurting his friend.


	14. PROTOCOL

 

**CHAPTER 14. PROTOCOL  
**

Ryan hadn't worried about just how far he needed to run, it was easy to blend in with the other officers, he listened hearing the familiar complaints of Davy, then his green eyes scanned the area of the garage, people milling around all spectators, leave it to cops, this is why they were fun targets sometimes they just made it all too easy.

Still remaining part of the crowd, Ryan managed to find that man in the long coat, the one with the dark curls. He was shouting, kneeling over another body.

"What's happened? Anyone we know?" Ryan asked adjusting his cap, the younger female officer with red hair in a bun didn't turn around.

"No, looks like it was another imposter. That Doctor Watson though got caught in the friendly fire, and they captured one of the bastards involved alive. Doesn't look good for the Doctor."

"Dammit! Where the hell is that ambulance!" a grainy voice shouted out.

"Not good at all." The female officer shook her head. "I hope that fucker hangs."

"He's not breathing!" Ryan could hear the edge in the dark haired man's baritone voice. "John!"

"He's losing a lot of blood." The grainy voice, echoed off the walls of the parking garage.

"Tilt his head back. Keep pressure on that."

"John!" Ryan could hear the man he guessed to be the DI instructing someone to give CPR. The rest of his words now drowned out by the sound of an ambulance pulling into the third tier.

"Everyone move!" another officer ordered "Let them through!" Ryan thought of going to Davy but there was no way to reach his associate without drawing unwanted attention.

"Doesn't look good does it." Another officer was walking towards the group of onlookers, his face pale, someone was standing next to him, another female DI with frizzy hair.

"It was an accident Kent. Don't beat yourself up, this went down because that's how it was orchestrated. No one blames you." Ryan could see the caramel skinned DI glancing over her shoulder. The criminal watched another ambulance take the still restrained Davy, his white t-shirt stained with his own blood. This was a mess, a big one.

The other paramedics where yelling "Clear!"

"Secure this area!" The female DI ordered. "I want escorts for the ambulance. Johnson, Peters! Someone armed ride in the back! Two cars following behind and in front! Peters you don't let that bastard out of your sight I don't care if you have to follow him into surgery! You got me?"

"Yes Sergeant."

"Go!" She nodded sternly. Turning to two more armed men "Brady, Licht! Go with the Doctor and The DI I want an escort for the Doctor, they need the road clear get two more with a squad car! Licht, I want a clear route to the hospital! You two are assigned to the Doctor. No one leaves the man unattended! You two will watch whatever room he's put in, same goes, I don't care if you have be in the damn operating room! And no one visits unless they are cleared by the DI, Myself or Holmes! No one! Janitor, hospital staff, even officers! No one!"

"Yes ma'am!" Both men jumped to attention.

"So she thinks he'll make it?" Ryan asked soft enough that only the woman in front of him heard.

"Looks like it. But it may just be the new protocol. They have more of us armed with guns. They just might have some special police come in to take over. This could of happened to any of us, hope Kent isnt suspended or held to harshly under the discipline board. Look." She pointed and Ryan followed the direction, the Paramedics loaded the doctor onto a cot, they must have got his heart started, already equipped with a mask to supply oxygen. Dammit, well it was a long ride to a hospital even with officers in London traffic, he may just die yet.

"St. Barts is the closest, I want security on alert for the prisoner. As soon as he's cleared he's to be placed straight away in a transport the MET has a nice room waiting for him. Got it?" Sally spoke quickly into her mobile, from the tone of her voice it was most likely the DI. So Ryan understood where both men would be. He slipped away he made a quick text to a number he hoped was still available.

**_"Jr. is on his way to the hospital. The babysitter will be with him, he's in trouble for playing in the yard. Should I pay a visit to his Doctor or Jr.? Looks like they will share a floor, if the Doctor makes it to work today, heavy traffic might just be to long a wait. Don't worry Jr will be fine, nothing to serious just a scraped knee, looks like he'll be sent to his room."_ **

Ryan received the return text immediately.

_**"Left the heat on. Don't go home. Help put Jr. to sleep, before he checks into the daycare. Say hello to the Doctor. If you are able to visit make him comfortable for all he's done. Going on a company Holiday, you should join us when you're through. See you soon."** _

Ryan sighed heavily, he climbed unnoticed into a squad car just outside the parking garage, the crime scene still secured by a handful of officers, the detectives except the dark haired sergeant all on their way to the hospital or back to the Yard. That would give him at least a half an hour to get to the hospital, he could leave the squad car a few blocks away and none would guess his intentions until after the deed was done.

It could be dangerous but it had to be done, after all his loyalty was where the money was, and the Boss with his infinite contingency plans no doubt anticipated this possible outcome why else would he be placed with Davy and Nick. If the boss was burning the house down, he obviously suspected very strongly that the government suits were going to be stopping in for a visit.

He knew the protocols, time to clean up should be easy. He would of course need a hospital uniform, something like a nurse would be easy. Name tags were easy to switch and fabricate. Killing Davy with a shot of insulin he could finish the doctor off in the same way. Maybe switch out a syringe without anyone noticing it would definitely be doable he may not even have to enter the room. He could play it by ear, besides that doctor was owed some cheap shots; bastard almost choked him out in that alley.


	15. SUGAR, SUGAR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just one of the many things you can do with sugar...dont try this at home kids.

 

**CHAPTER 15. SUGAR, SUGAR**

The hospital was easy to find, no way you could miss the building, gaining access to the laundry and locker room just as effortless. He just needed the insulin, not something difficult to do, he entered the locked pharmacy behind an exhausted pharmacy tech.

Then headed straight for the small refrigerator in the corner, pick pocketing the key card of the pharmacy tech. The technique to going unnoticed was always look like you belonged. And no one questioned him in a lab coat he used the key card to swipe along the side the glass case where such medicines were kept at the correct cool temperatures.

Ryan glanced at the hospital map displayed in front of the elevator, giving a floor by floor department description. He used this to figure out which floors to search first for Davy and the Doctor. He had only suggested the two were on the same floors in the text for the sake of so very clever, he grinned at himself tracing his finger along the maps smooth surface.

Third floor was were the emergency patients were sent after surgery for ICU, the Doctor if he lived looked bad enough off he would need some kind of surgery, and after definitely straight into ICU, so Ryan guessed third floor was the first place to look for him. Seeing how Davy was still awake and bitching about his injuries at the garage he would need less intensive care. So second floor according to the inpatient hospital map was for non emergency care.

Sure enough he reached the second floor two officers stationed out front of a room just four doors from the lift. Ryan recalled the Sergeant's little speech. He needed to cause a distraction, grabbing a food cart he moved down the hall towards his associates room.

"Officers." He smiled easily heading straight in.

"Hold it-"

"Sure, sure. No problem, actually would you mind taking this in for me? I have another patient I have to get to down the hall. And I really don't feel like taking in-" 

"We arent here to play waitress."

Ryan put his hands up as if he was worried they'd shoot him.

"Well I figured since you're here, that you could. I really don't feel like coming face to face with a criminal. What if he jumps me?"

"He's cuffed to the bed. That and they've got him drugged up pretty good. Don't know why they should bother. He doesn't deserve any comfort." A nurse halted behind Ryan who was just testing the waters, but fate was with him.

"Nurse?"

"Yes." He turned meeting the green eyes of a nurse Shannon according her name badge, her hair in a long blond braid.

"What are you doing?"

"I was told to bring this tray to room 234."

"Well this is room 233. Really. Look." He frowned sighing heavily.

"Phew, good. I wasn't looking forward to going in."

"Well, since you're here I need an extra set of hands, check the dressings and vitals."

"I really should get this delivered."

"Good, go in." She ignored him, predictable. " I have a man with a knife in his hand waiting for me to assist a doctor in taking it out."

"No problem. Should I-"

"The food can wait. Go. Anything critical come find me." He nodded pushing the cart aside, the two officers opened the door. Ryan did his best impression of a nervous man as he moved to the bed. Davy was glassy eyed, he didn't immediately say anything seeing Ryan. The door swung shut behind him, he could hear the two officers chatting outside.

"Hello D. Brought you a gift. Compliments of your uncle. Sorry about this mate. We did have some good times." The bleach blond frowned his eyes attempting to focus, he recognized Ryan's voice, his mind to slow to comprehend the words fully.

"You should of ended the doctor like this but you had to be messy. So here I am to clean it up." He took the syringe out of his pocket, rolled the small insulin bottle around in his hand then forced the syringe into the soft plastic seal, pulling back on the plunger he filled the syringe. Smiling easily while lifting the mans shirt.

"No-" Davy murmured trying to pull up on his bound hands.

"Ssssh. It's cool. You're gonna be fine. I've seen this before it goes fast." And he pushed the needle into the man's stomach, calmly pulled the shirt down and moved quickly from the room, tossing the syringe in a sharps container on the wall. Safety first.

"Well that was fun." Ryan smiled at the two officers who glanced back at the sleeping man. "You have a good night officers." And he left the food cart moving down the hall. The alarms started to sound as he entered the elevator. Nurses rushed towards the criminal going into cardiac arrest.

By, Ryan's next stop he already had an idea formed when the elevator opened onto the floor. At the end of the hall two officers where standing and he knew that two more should be inside. Moving quickly he thumbed the gun in his pocket, there was a janitor standing flirting with a nurse, Ryan placed his weapon carefully onto the cart tossing a rag over it, he then said to the brown haired kid, "Hey, there is a spill in the room there at the end. Needs to get mopped up right quick."

"Not again." The janitor groaned. "That makes twice I was just in there, someone should get that old woman a straw." Ryan shrugged watching the janitor head down the hall, the nurse smiled shyly and headed away. Ryan moved quickly he pulled the fire alarm, everyone froze, and he hurried down the hall approaching the two officers.

"Officers! I don't know what's going on! But I just a Janitor in that room there at the far end he's waving a gun at security! He has a gun on his cart! Another two men in paramedic uniforms were on the emergency stairwell! I've worked here for six years and I haven't ever seen the men or Janitor till today. I'm not sure he's a janitor." Both men looked at each other one spoke into the radio on his chest. Ryan smiled they yelled into the room two more men stepped outside.

"Licht stay with the Doctor, there's possible suspects on the emergency stairwell, Brady check the stairwell, I have two more officers on their way." Ryan waited. This was going to be chaotic, but he was one step ahead. People always acted so predictably in emergency situations. Right on cue a very authoritative charge nurse called out and the medical personal all jumped into action.

"Emergency protocol we need to prepare patients for evacuation! Everyone stay calm, you know the drill."

"There may be a fire. Do you hear the alarm?" A male orderly tried to step around the police officer, Ryan stayed on this mans heels, hoping to use him to gain acess. The cop blocked the door way. "Officer we have a job to do."

"Let them in." A baritone voice ordered from behind the cop. The officer frowned he nodded stepping aside. "Very well."

"I've got this, go help the next one." Ryan patted the orderly's shoulder. Ryan couldnt keep a pleased grin from his face as he hurried into the room, more shouting in the hall. The man with the baritone voice had stepped out and was yelling at someone, leaving Ryan all alone with the Doctor. He quickly prepared the syringe. No speeches he had a small window of opportunity. The Doctor had various tubes running up and down his arms, an IV bag as well as a bag of blood hung from a stand just next to the bed. This stubborn bastard just didnt know how to die. Ryan shook his head.

"well times up Doc." Pulling up the Doctor's hospital gownup just over the soon to be dead doctor's thigh, he moved to drive in the insulin. But a very cold, very strong hand snaked out and caught his wrist.

"You think I'm one of the idiots out there? I saw you coming from the elevator." the voice was cold, low and very, very deadly.

"Excuse me? I'm only trying to give him some antibiotics."

"Then you wont mind trying it out yourself." Ryan brought an elbow back, but the taller man anticipated this stepping just out of reach. And with one fluid movement he kicked Ryan's feet out from under him throwing the assassin to the hard tiled floor. "Hope you're not allergic to antibiotics." Ryan glared up at the gray eyes. _Big mistake buddy moving off like that._ Ryan thought to himself, and had his limbs not felt so stiff and heavy he'd of swept the smug bastards feet out from under him. A rush of warmth flushed his skin, and things started to blur,

"What the-" he panted breathless, looking now following the direction of those cold gray eyes, the man with the marble skin, and dark hair, the face of the angel of death. "Fuck." Ryan growled seeing now the syringe protruding from his own stomach. When had the bastard done that? He realized now this man was the same who had been wearing the long coat.

"It's interesting what a bit of insulin can do for a diabetic. Even more so what happens to a none diabetic. Do you feel that? The drumming in your ears, it's your blood sugar level plummeting, your brain will not get sugar, which gives it energy to live. Your body will try to compensate, but you have made sure that there is enough in the now empty syringe to kill, causing cardiac arrest and death. Unless treated. But it seems I'm no Doctor, and the only Doctor in the room is on that bed there fighting for his life. He is a good man that Doctor. He is my moral compass, keeps me from making rash decisions, in this case injecting you with your own murder weapon and standing here to watch you die. If he were here, awake that is, he would check your vitals and call for a nurse. He would know what to do, and show an extreme amount of mercy."

"Help." Ryan grunted, the world was blurring out, the drumming in his ears louder.

"Please dont interrupt." the man snapped irritably. "As I was saying. Oh, what was I saying?" He remained squatting next to Ryan, turning his back on as if expecting the man on the bed to speak, Ryan couldnt hold his eyes open and his body felt threatened by a falling sensation. "Oh, that's right." Turning back to Ryan, the Angel of Death pulled the needle from him and grinned. "Oh, yes. If you dont die, you'll wish you had." he whispered softly, rummaging through Ryan's pockets finding his phone. The dark haired man, sent a quick text standing up moving away from Ryan, just as a black curtain fell over the room and then just darkness.

_**~0~** _

It didnt take Sherlock long to decode the text, he called his brother immediately.

"Mycroft where are you? Dont allow your men anywhere further pull them back, the house is rigged to explode. Of course I'm certain. I'll be at the hospital with John. It seems that we have a mutual friend now, one I'm dieing to meet." Sherlock rolled his eyes, glancing down at the unconscious man at his feet. "Fine. " he growled hanging up, he turned to the call button and pressed it slowly. It wouldnt be his fault if a nurse didnt respond, he could honestly say he tried to bring the man back alive. Insulin shock or coma could both be great idea's for a new experiment.


	16. NUMBERS AND FIGURES

 

 

**CHAPTER 16. NUMBERS AND FIGURES  
**

Sherlock glanced back at John, he handed his brother the near dead assassin's mobile.

"Don't look so distressed brother, he would have given you nothing. Here, here is his phone. I expect they have him on life support, shame he'll live. Since he's in a coma, I took the opportunity to send a text to his handlers, let them know the Jobs were successful. No need to send any alarms off, easier to have an advantage. This way they'll be lazy and completely caught unawares."

He held out the small throw away mobile, his eyes still on the unconscious Doctor. Mycroft didn't hide his look of irritation, but then his attention studied the man on the hospital bed, another emotion overcame the irritation.

"Oh, Mycroft, don't gawk. It's a ventilator yes. But they have assured me it will only be overnight. That bullet naturally after missing his heart damaged a lung. The surgeon simply repaired the lung, they were worried they might have to remove one or more lobes of the injured lung. But once they opened him up-" Sherlock's voice wavered, he tried to cover this up with a cough. "They thankfully only needed to repair the damage. He'll have this ventilator for the night, they have him under heavy sedation and this thoracostomy tube or chest tube, will be in place until his lung can stay inflated on it's own. So it all looks dire but when you have such a healthy patient to start with then it is only a matter of when he heals, not if." Sherlock frowned his hands now held tightly to the metal bar of the Doctors cot.

"Yes, Sherlock, I have spoken with his Doctors and Surgeons. I am aware" The younger Holmes still didn't look at his brother, his own eyes were on the steady rise and fall of his friends chest.

_It is still difficult to see._ Mycroft thought to himself, concentrating on the mobile in his hands " Well. I will have my men trace all calls."

"Don't bother it would be useless. They are quite efficient. I'm sure soon after that last text they disposed of the phone. Has the Bomb Squad dismantled the explosives?"

"Yes. We have found all of them."

"You fabricated an explosion no less?"

"Yes, brother. This isnt my first tea party, as they say." Mycroft sniffed, glancing down at the mobile in his hand, he leaned on his umbrella.

"Mycroft I don't want to leave him until I know he will be alright. As soon as he wakes, I will be onto your colleague's trail."

"The more time that passes the more difficult." Mycroft stated gently.

"I know how it will be. I know his type their thinking. He wont go far, he's thinking he's won. He has his money and his thugs. As **_you say_** ,this isnt my first tea party Mycroft. I will find him."

The images of before, the gunshot, the way John stiffened, and flinched on impact, the confused grin his words. What had they been _? "Nice shot."_ Or _"Good shot."?_

Sherlock was too busy pushing past the damn officers who just stood watching. As if the ground wasn't falling away, unaware that the world was about to stop spinning and the sun shining.

He could feel as well as see, the blood pouring out of his friend, and he'd frantically held a hand over John's heart, trying to dam the flood, as if holding in the life force that slowly spilled out.

Feeling John's strong heart, slow from a healthy rhythm to a slower tempo and finally nothing had nearly paralyzed the consulting detective, for a moment his braid could form not coherent thought nothing. This was something Sherlock did not wish to repeat, it was a good thing Lestrade had been there instructing Sherlock to focus, to keep his hand over John's heart.

"I will find him." Sherlocks eyes still looked on unfocused, trapped in the memory of that experience.

Mycroft nodded clasping his lips together as if he wished to say something more but thought better of it. Instead the British government pulled up a chair next to his brother. Sherlock flinched, watching his brother out of the corner of his eye.

"They said, talking to him will make him more comfortable." Mycroft offered as a change in subject.

"They arent sure if he can even hear us." Sherlock's reply sounded defeated instead of snide. Then the consulting detective recalled that he had demanded John to wake. With every chest compression traiding off with Lestrade, working as a team with the gray haired detective to preform CPR.  John had responded to hearing Sherlock call his name, he'd looked right at him.

The younger Holmes remained focused on his friend, more memories dancing through the swarming emotions. He wanted to push them all down to lock them away or delete them from his mind palace. Instead they just circled around the halls, like a heavy dark cloud of smoke. There was no way around it or away from it. And if John were here awake, he would know what words to say, what actions to take, his very presence would cause this cloud of emotion to dissipate before it choked and overcame the consulting detective.

The Doctor was near but not responsive and these beeps from the machines and the hiss of the tubes and ventilator refused to allow Sherlock to think about anything else. Even if he tried to slip into his mind palace he had to go around the memory of earlier.

The one where-everyone and everything had moved slowly, so very slow except him, it had taken two long strides and he was there pushing past the stunned officer, the accidental executioner. Sherlock couldn't even register the man's face let alone his name.

His sole focused on catching his friend, pulling him into his arms. From the years of working together he'd learned many things involving first aid techniques. But the one that always stuck out in his mind, because he'd heard John command it on so many different occasions.

" _Put pressure on it! Keep your hand on that wound Sherlock I don't need you losing anymore blood."_ Those were the words that the consulting detective heard screaming through the shaking halls of his mind palace.

All the cascading information, useless, all of it except that sentence that command, and he was holding a hand to John's chest. Still warm, blood could be so warm and sticky, like syrup no-no he refused to continue on this train of thought.

All too much to take in, emotions excessively complex , impossible to place or name thus making it difficult to contain and to hold back the mind numbing flood.

Then John wasn't breathing, laying there on the cold cement of the parking garage, a pool of his own blood expanding behind him, just bleeding and motionless, his eyes closed like he was asleep but he was far from sleep.

John would always wake up if Sherlock yelled for him, "CASE!" or "JOHN!" no matter how late or early, even if he was yelling for John to bring him a pen, or his mobile that sat just out of reach for Sherlock. John would grumble but he would always wake up or make the track across the room or up the stairs to bring Sherlock whatever it was he needed, sometimes tossing it at the consulting detectives head.

Lestrade had looked completely lost, he stated the obvious and Sherlock could see John's lips moving like a fish out of water and then no more.

"Sherlock." Mycroft spoke softly breaking his younger brother away from whatever thoughts threatened to drown the self proclaimed sociopath.

"I wont leave him." Sherlock answered the unasked question.

"Brother. John, will be out for at least another day, the doctors have him on strong sedatives. He wont be awake for another eight hours by their estimation. If he awakens to find you haven't rested or had something to eat he wont be happy." Sherlock frowned, looking back at his friend. "Go. The cafeteria isnt far. I'll stay right here. I have more men just outside the door. I'll text you if there is a change."

"I wont leave him." Sherlock forced again through clinched teeth, Mycroft only nodded in defeat.

"Very well. I will have something brought in to you, and a change of clothes." Sherlock didn't answer. "When he is well enough for transport we'll be moving him to a private and secure facility for the duration of his recovery." still no reply. Mycroft would leave twenty minutes later.

A nurse came in sometime after midnight, followed by John's Doctor, the two read over the charts and checked the monitors to the machines. Sherlock locked onto Doctor Green's face. Something in the way his eyes flicked over the chart, and back to the monitors. The nurse gave a thin polite smile before hurrying out.

"What is it?"

"Nothing uncommon Mr. Holmes we are only taking extra precautions."

"For what?" Two more Doctor's entered; one was the surgeon but the other Sherlock hadn't met before.

"I'll need some X-Rays of the area, I want his bed adjusted to a better angel, those lungs need to be clear."

"What's going on?" Sherlock waited for the others to leave before cornering Doctor Green.

"Just a bit of a fever Mr. Holmes. We will X-Ray his lungs to be sure their isn't much fluid, listening to them it sounds a little wet. We worry about pneumonia. I assure you we are all just being overly careful. Your brother has demanded the best of care and this is what Mr-uh Doctor Watson will receive."

Just then Sherlock's phone vibrated he looked down at the unfamiliar number. "Excuse me." He steps out into the hall just as more medical staff head into John's room.

"I thought we agreed on a text."

"Yes well I rather miss the sound of your delicious voice." an amused sultry voice replied.

"Just get to it. "

"Is he that bad off then?" Sherlock wondered if she truly felt as worried as she sounded. He pushed the question aside, she was a born manipulator, a true sociopath, that being said she was incapable of any kind of concern but for her own welfare.

"I don't like to repeat myself." Sherlock growled.

"Alright. You were correct. I know a man-well I know what he likes. He's a banker here in the Cayman's. So I thought I'd pay him a little visit."

"That wasnt the deal."

"No need to thank me. Besides I do love the beach. And I was becoming quiet bored in DC, a change of scenery perked me right up."

"Get on with it."

"So rude. I forgotten how protective you get with your boyfriend. It's a shame the two of you are straight. If there was such a thing as love, I think you two would be perfect for each other."

"Need I remind you that you owe me. And if you are going to call just for idel chit chat-"

"Alright. Alright. He's here. I've confirmed it with the Swiss Banker I met last year, she was definitely a favorite. Turns out he has several accounts under the name Victor Thatcher. And just six hours ago he emptied both accounts out, it took some rather brilliant forensic accounting on my part. The trail ends in the Cayman's how predictable. So here I am, popped down to find a nice little hotel near the beach. Where a Victor Vincitore is now staying. You know I have always been a girl who only gets her hands dirty at the discretion of both parties, murder is to tasteless, being one to prefer the game of blackmail and espionage, selling secrets has always been more of challenge, but just this once I'd be happy to break my own rules and poison the fat bastard."

"I do appreciate the sentiment. But I-"

"Oh, no. I would do it to alleviate the tedium of sharing the same air with such an idiot. How this man managed to put one over on the British Government just amazed me. Really your brother must be losing his edge. So just say it darling and I'll poison the boring tosser."

"No."

"It could even up our score."

"I said no. This will make us even."

"Oh, far from it. Oh, well. I do know the importance of revenge, I'll be in touch dear boy. Perhaps we can have dinner. My love to the dear Doctor. He does have the kindest of eyes. It's almost sickening. Goodbye Mr. Holmes. I think I'll try for a much busier city. I hear Paris is lovely this time of year."

Sherlock ended the call, he didnt wait to hear anymore. He had the information he needed, he didn't expect for Irene to take a chance and call him, but then again when it came to the Woman he never could deduce her motives or way of thinking too easily.


	17. SOCIOPATHS AND SENTIMENT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because there's two of them. And things arent as they seem.

 

**CHAPTER 17. SOCIOPATHS AND SENTIMENT**

Sherlock glared down at another text he received from Irene. Her voice earlier had held a certain disappointment that Sherlock wasn't going to allow her the privilege of killing Hughes. What was she after now? Why the sudden eagerness to commit murder in the name of revenge.

True he kept tabs on her, and she mainly stayed just under the radar. In fact she had contacted him first with a piece of information regarding the bombings and the possible whereabouts of Hughes. He didn't have time to consider the why behind it. He wouldnt give it more thought, there was nothing he could do until he knew John was alright. He wanted solid evidence that John was going to come out of this in one piece. And from there he would concentrate on Hughes.

He turned to reenter John's room, Mycroft was sitting next to the cot, Sherlock was about to say something biting from the open doorway, but his brother's lowered voice caused him to pause.

"Well Doctor Watson this is a fine predicament. I'm sure you understood the whole discussion about your present treatment plan. I have the utmost faith in these specialists. Although I do prefer to have your opinion on these matters, so it would be much appreciated that by tomorrow they take the ventilator off and you were to come around. I do understand these things take time but I find you have always been one to prove any timetable wrong."

Mycroft sounded as if John was an employee, one that was conscious, which John was neither. And to even more of a surprise his brother adjusted John's blanket. Reaching out then and placing a hand on Johns shoulder, how unlike Mycroft.

Sherlock cleared his throat, as if he hadn't witnessed the confusing scene. Surely Mycroft didn't have a mind for sentiment, no this was his way to try and control the situation. Sherlock attempted to make himself believe this explanation.

"Brother. Since you are done conducting business, I should leave you two. I've already informed the doctors to call with any new information or changes, I must be getting back to the office." Sherlock didn't reply.

_**~0~** _

Irene frowned, well she did what she could, like the man had said, she didn't need to come all the way to the Caymans but she had. Why, why? When she could have easily just passed on the information. Well she did owe him her life, and she hated having debts hanging over her head. Something else maybe, boredom?

After that explosion in Switzerland, she did some detective work herself, thinking it was an attempt on her life. Only to find it was an idiots game, a power play how unoriginal. Whispers in her circles, these whispers were pointing at that fat idiot Hughes. Hughes almost cost her-well she wouldn't think of it now, she needed to get back to Switzerland soon. But not until she took care of someone first.

Reading a text from another contact of hers, she learned that the man who manufactured the bomb that went off in the lobby of her hotel was dead. Fine, there was justice after all. Only to discover that his little associates who delivered the bomb, were on their way to London.

Just another debt to repay someone else, someone she left at the private hospital in Switzerland, someone important, not that Irene or rather Helena now, would ever admit this out loud.

Always a courteous person the once Irene Adler aka **_The Woman,_** now just plain Helena decided to send another text to her old acquaintance alerting him to the possible danger to his friend. Yes, John Watson was a friend to Sherlock Holmes, and maybe Helena could relate to the idea of sentiment.

Her phone buzzed she read the return text rolling her hazel eyes in response. _"I've already taken precautions._ _Your concern is misplaced and unwarranted.-SH"_

That man could be uncouth but he made up for it with those gorgeous cheek bones. Time to make another call.

"Hello. Helena? Where are you?" The Woman grimaced, she could hear the edge in the female voice.

"Oh, Abbs you worry to much. I was just going out of town for a day or two. I needed the air. Wanted to meet an old friend." Not exactly a lie.

"Don't call me Abbs you know I hate it when you call me Abbs-its Jesse, and we both know you don't have old friends."

"Jesse is so manish it does you no justice besides we both know that's your middle name. Abigail is the name your mother gave you." Irene,(Helena now) could hear the exasperation in Abbs voice, good that meant she was feeling better.

"I know plenty of women that go by Jesse. It's not manish at all. And can we not talk about my mother? Stop trying to change the subject."

"Yes, well there's been a slight delay over my return."

"What? Why what's happened Helena? Where are you?" Helena bit her ruby red lips, she hated lying to Abbs but the woman couldn't come not this time. After that explosion, that Swiss doctor said she needed to rest, yes okay two cracked ribs, a concussion and a few lacerations weren't exactly a death sentence but it was Abbs. They had to remove shrapnel from her legs and back!

Not to mention the fact that she had been rendered unconscious for a few minutes was enough to startle the notoriously cold hearted woman, yes the former Irene Adler was terrified for someone else for the first time in her life. Abbs almost died. Just because these fools were using Europe as a chess board.

"Don't worry about me beautiful. I'll see you soon."

"You're up to something I can hear it in your voice. Just let me meet you, I'd feel better-"

"Get your rest. Ciao, darling." Helena quickly hung up, she switched her tickets to London and powered down her phone. "Sorry Abbs, not this time."

Sentiment left such a disgusting taste in her mouth. Revenge wasn't her style, but she hadn't lied to Sherlock she would have poisoned the man, something slow and painful, and something to drag out for days.

Well since she couldn't kill him, she would take joy in knowing that the Holmes brothers would no doubt have something darker in store for the man, if not then she had a few ideas of her own.


	18. CROSSING PATHS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old friends meet new friends.

 

**CHAPTER 18. CROSSING PATHS**

Mycroft received important intel, it seemed three hired guns had arrived in the last 24 hours. This would usually only warrant surveillance, in view of two were known arms informants for Hughes in the past, and the third a freelance extraction and retrieval expert, no known ties to Hughes, Mycroft would put guns on them, perhaps one of the three would lead him to Hughs.

The British Government knew this not to be a coincidence, especially considering the three were coming in from Switzerland. He inspected the faces that a very talented photographer had managed to snap from an impressive distance.

The two men, Gregorio and Fredrick St. Pierre were dressed like businessmen complete with briefcases, that held their weapons, so predictable it was insulting. The freelancer that went by the Australian, how original. And interestingly enough, Mycroft had never used her on any business privately or otherwise. Her reputation preceded her, her file said she wasn't Australian but from New Zealand, it was a clever name. Perhaps.

He could only assume she was here for John, Sherlock or word was out and one of those three hired guns were here for Hughes' man. He doubled security on the hospital, adding more, Janitors, nurses, nuns, housekeepers and even some patients just to be sure. At this point he was taking no chances.

_**~0~** _

Sherlock paced outside John's room he wasnt getting worse but he wasn't getting any better, his fever wasn't responding to the antibiotics as quickly as they hoped, if it climbed higher he was at risk for seizure, right now it was holding steady enough to cause concern. Already a night had passed on the ventilator, why were they keeping him attached to it? Hadnt they started to ease him off the sedatives?

Lestrade had stopped in with Molly they'd brought Sherlock some real coffee and their words were meant to console but they just added to the anxiety that John's condition was hopeless. The consulting detective loathed hopelessness and helplessness. He couldn't sit still and standing wasn't doing anything for his scattered thoughts. He was being urged to sleep by hospital staff, his brother, Mrs. Hudson even Lestrade and Molly had taken a stance. But how could he be expected to sleep when John wasn't yet awake. Sure he dozed for two hours at a time, only to jerk from sleep expecting to find his friend awake and each time disappointed. He decided to stretch his legs, promising John he wouldn't go far, just outside the doors to pace. John would understand, John always understood.

He needed something to take his mind off of his flatmate, looking around he started to deduce those in plain sight, something was different how did he not notice, more security, the whole floor in fact, all agents trying to appear as if they were simple medical workers. Oh, Mycroft couldn't you find better actors.

He glanced at his phone, still no word from Harry, you would think a message telling her that John was in critical care would make her return early from Hawaii, but she hadnt been exactly sober when Sherlock first spoke to her. And she only texted him twice letting him know she'll be home in another week, if John was still in the hospital she would stop in.

It took everything in the younger Holmes to not call her, to not tell her what a mess she is and how fortunate she should be to have a brother as patient, caring and generous as John, and then to throw his phone. Instead he tightened his grip around the device surprised the screen didn't shatter under pressure. Moving back to John's room he entered just as the nurses were finishing checking the vitals and all the maintenance that a comatose body would need.

Something was different about the room, something had changed, he frowned what was it. Perfume the faint scent of perfume, nurses as a rule weren't allowed to wear perfume. Still it was there, had it been there before, he scanned the room nothing out of order, get well cards, flowers-he froze moving towards the small table that held several bouquets of flowers cluttered with cards that Mrs. Hudson had arranged so carefully so when John woke up he could turn his head and see just how appreciated he was, just how loved.

A silly notion really, of course John knew he was appreciated, respected, esteemed and cherished. He had to know his relevance in the lives of all those around him. Or was this display just to confirm that, in case he didn't know? Sherlock made a mental note to ask John if he did, and if he didn't then Sherlock would have to clarify and point out the well known facts. And maybe the dark haired detective would shyly ask if John knew that Sherlock cared as well, even though he would not purchase a silly card with a dog, or kitten on the front. No he would not. Firstly that was plain juvenile and secondly no card could ever articulate the right words that represented what John's good health meant.

Certainly not an orange kitten with a plaster on its paw and the words GET WELL SOON across the top. How did that make sense! It made none, kittens didn't wear plasters!

Then someone had thought to get a card with a black and white picture of a curly haired little boy in a sailor suit with an exaggerated frown on his face holding an empty leash, when did that one get delivered and by who, who brought it in? Picking it up he caught the perfume scent heavier now. Inside the words printed in a familiar delicate scrawl,

" _ **Hello, Gorgeous boy. Stopped in but you were occupied. Wanted to leave this for you in my place. By the way, nice security detail. Let's have dinner soon. Xxoox"**_

Sherlock swore turning back to John he couldn't see anything tampered with, there was the stain of familiar red lipstick where someone had kissed John's temple. Why would she come here? Now is not the time! He tried to think, the nurses, could it have been one of them, why hadn't he caught the scent of her perfume earlier?

The answer being he was to busy not texting Harry. He must be more exhausted than formally believed. How could she walk right past him? He tried to scan his thoughts, he hadn't given the nurses a second glance, neither did the security. Damn it! He glared at the guards, standing by John's door. So much for top notch security.

"I'm stepping out, if you can try not to let anyone kill my friend I would much appreciate it." he growled at the two agents standing in front of John's door.

He hurried down the hall, would she take the lift or the stairs, why would she dare chance it? It was all too risky if Mycroft discovered she were alive Sherlock would never hear the end of it. But there was a chance the British Government would find a way to lock her up. He heard the door to the emergency stairwell.

John's browning was still in the pocket of Sherlock's Bellstaff coat. He shouldn't need it, but if she were here for some reason-if she was trying to harm John-

He heard light footsteps, from high heeled feet, the Woman, no doubt he sprinted after her, taking four steps at a time. His long legs gave him an advantage and he burst through the door, he caught the flutter of a midnight colored pea coat just heading out of the side of the building.

"Looking for me?" Sherlock's baritone voice breathless from the chase and the alternate route he took just to arrive in a side alley, perfect timing as the Woman was about to pass. He easily pulled her in, pushing her firmly against the brick wall.

"I never knew you had such a rough side. We could have had fun."

"Spare me. What are you doing here!?" he stepped back, aiming John's gun at her. She smiled easily hands up in a mock defensive.

"I missed you, wanted to catch up."

"I assure you I am not in the mood for games."

"Well that makes two of us." Came another female voice far from amused, and directly behind him. "Put it down curly locks."


	19. SORTED OUT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As usual sociopaths tend to underestimate those brave enough to call them friends.

 

**CHAPTER 19. SORTED OUT**

"NO." he growled, "You put yours down."

"Believe me, mate-you don't want to play this game with me. I guarantee you'll lose."

"Abbs!" the Woman's scolding voice cut off whatever Sherlock's reply would have been.

"Don't call me that Helena. I've told you-"

" _Helena_? Is that what your calling yourself these days." Sherlock snorted.

"What are you doing here?" The Woman ignored the gray eyed detective.

"Friend of yours I take it or-" Sherlock stepped to the side turning slightly his weapon still trained on Irene, or Helena as it was now. He wanted to take a better look at who he was dealing with. The Woman surprisingly enough stepped between him and a blond woman.

"Why does everyone assume we are dating?" The blond snapped. "Friends. Just friends. Not that it matters." Helena's hazel eyes held her _friends_.

Was she even capable of friends, surely he heard the blond incorrectly.

"He's not going to shoot me. Put it down Abbs." Sherlock could see the conflict, this woman was nowhere near as tall as he, but she was just two inches shorter than _**The Woman**_.

"Helena? Interesting. Not very inventive." Sherlock scoffed. "Care to call your dog off then?"

"It works for me." Helena or Irene huffed. "You are one to talk of dogs. We both know you are only sore over your little pet being laid up in the hospital." Sherlock flinched, but Helena was ignoring him her hand on the blonds extended forearm. "Abbs, put it down. Believe me he's not a threat."

"You too and no funny business curly locks or I will shoot you."

The blond did as her friend urged, and Sherlock slowly followed. His gray eyes narrowing on the new player.

This Abbs, was at least late twenties early thirties, blue eyes, dishwater blond, held a Browning with ease. So she's handled weapons before, her hands were steady certainly acclimated to violence or stressful situations, suggests some kind of training. Police? No. More likely military. Such cold, steady eyes, she wasn't afraid she was ready to shoot him at any hint of danger.

Shoulders straight, stiff, though her slightly sun kissed face held bruises he could see faint freckling, her blond hair was back in quick bun. Sensibly dressed, for function instead of style, from her green canvas jacket similar to one John wore occasionally, dark blue jeans and heavy combat boots.

All of these things confirmed his deduction and the irony didn't escape him, this had to be a joke. This woman, Abbs was it? Screamed Military. What was she doing with Irene? What was the accent, Australian, no New Zealand with a twinge of-ah yes her mother most likely was from Cardiff-and father New Zealander.

"Long way from home Abigail is it?" the blond shook her head drawing her weapon once more.

"No one calls me Abigail! It's Jesse. Can I shoot him now? Please."

"Abbs now is not the time. What are you doing here?"

"I knew you were up to something. Figured you would need my help, and I was right." She put the weapon down. Helena's expression of vexation wasn't lost on Sherlock, he could relate, John had a similar habit of disregarding his own safety and ignoring any attempt the consulting detective was making at keeping him alive and uninjured. How many times did his flatmate show up, despite all Sherlock's effort to keep him safely in the dark?

That was it, the straw that broke the camels back, he just couldn't hold it in, this whole situation had to be a joke, or a hallucination brought on by stress and lack of sleep. Both women frowned turning to look at him leaning back against the cool brick of the building, wiping at his eyes. The deep rumble of his laughter ricocheting off the alley walls and dumpsters.

"We'll be going. Sherlock, always a pleasure." An annoyed Helena took the blond by the arm, Sherlock easily made another correct deduction, after studying the unsteady balance, of the blond companion, she was shifting her weight from the left leg to the right carefully, a bruise on the same side, the knuckles similarly scratched and only just scabbing.

"You were in Switzerland." He sniffed catching his breath, Helena sighed heavily, turning to glare over her thin shoulder.

"I have my own reasons for being here. Like I said, I was just coming for a visit."

"Clearly." Sherlock glanced from the Woman to the blond.

"I missed something didn't I?" Abbs put her hands in her green jacket unamused, Sherlock wondered what John would have said in such a situation.

"Did you see them?" Sherlock ignored the blond.

"No, I assumed if I could get in and visit so could they but then again I'm not just anybody. Besides it was a shot in the dark to think they would be fool enough to come here."

"Clearly. Am I to assume you will be taking care of these loose ends, rather effectively."

"Who?" Abbs rolled her eyes the two ignored her and spoke in half sentences, were they mind readers and why did she recognize that man's name. Definitely not army but that was a browning in his hand, who did he get that from? It was loved, she knew her guns, she was a sniper after all, she dreamed in bullets, gun smoke and laser marked targets.

"She doesn't know? You didn't tell her?" Sherlock held Irene's eyes, recalling how once they were pooling with cool reticence, cynical and calculating almost unreadable, like a viper he used to think ready to strike or slither away, but the hazel had changed since he last knew her.

"Know what? And hello, _**She**_ would be me. And I'm standing right here. Have I gone invisible?" Abbs interjected trying to keep her voice from rising.

"Oh, she is slow. Sad I thought you of all people would keep company with intelligence."

"Hey!" Abbs protested.

"Oh, she's smart enough far more intelligent than the ones you surround yourself with. Don't get me started on your little pet!"

"John is not my pet." Sherlock spat.

"Abbs is highly competent and trained in her field. She is a lot faster on her feet than anyone I've known. Certainly far more capable than those you regaurd as collegues" Sherlock snorted, Helena crossed her hands over her chest, ruby red lips pursed.

"Oh, don't mind me. It's not like I'm not standing right here. Now is someone going to tell me in normal people terms cause I'm a bit lost? So what the hell are you two going on about?"

" In the city. A dangerous place with someone so famous." Sherlock put his hands in his pockets facing the two. The blond frowned trying to work through the conversation, returning to the original question.

"I'll take my chances. Besides I'm doing you a favor. Just one less thing for you and big brother to worry about."

"Am I just invisible." Abbs muttered to herself. And who was this guy, could he be related to Helena, no she never mentioned family. Possibly an old boyfriend, hardly Helena wasn't into men. Why were they here? This man in the dark Bellstaff coat had an appearance that screamed old money. Those grey eyes, the way they scanned and observed drinking everything in with just a quick glance reminded her of Helena so much so she wondered if the two really were related.

"No. We aren't related. As if my family situation needed to be more dysfunctional." Goddammit, he was exactly like Helena, such an irritating ability to read thoughts.

"Switzerland. You were in the hotel when it was bombed am I correct." Sherlock stated without glancing at the woman's companion.

The blond shifted uncomfortably looking from Helena to Sherlock, then nodding. "Yeah, so."

"Where were _you_ Helena, when it happened?"

"Hold on. Wait just a minute. Is someone going to explain this for me? What does it matter to you where she was? She's lucky she wasn't in the lobby or she would have been seriously injured."Abbs, shot Sherlock a hard look, daring him to say otherwise.

Sherlock could see it now, Helena's eyes darkened, a grimace crossed her face. He knew that reaction, hadn't he had a similar one when it was John strapped to explosives. She was blaming herself for missing something, for not considering such a possibility.

"Don't beat yourself up Helena, you're good but not that good. It's not your fault. You weren't looking for a threat. Your guard was down." Sherlock didn't know why he offered this.

"We were on vacation." Helena sighed leaning against the brick wall of the alley casually. Sherlock's eyebrow rose.

"Not like that. We work together." Abbs snapped, becoming even more frustrated , making the over confident bastards grin even more apparent, as if she just confirmed his assumption.

"I'm not in the dominatrix business anymore. I retired." Helena stated almost sadly.

"You were a dominatrix?" Abbs eyes widened, running a hand over her bruised face, Sherlock could see the strain was wearing on the blond companion, she wouldn't admit it but being on her feet wasn't exactly wise.

"Wait! I get it now." the blond turned on her friend " You idiot!"  Abbs growled not even trying to lower her voice. "You bloody idiot! How can someone so fucking smart be such a complete-You were going to find who did it on your own!? Revenge? Helena?" the look of disappointment reminded Sherlock once again of John.

"You could have died. Anyway that is not important right now. Lets get you back to the hotel I assume you've rented a room in some completely low class inconspicuous hole in the ground. " Helena tried to change the subject very much aware of her audience and not particularly caring to look vulnerable in front of an adversary, even if they had called an unspoken cease fire.

"I am not a child Helena, I can take care of myself. Don't treat me like one. You are not getting out of explaining your thinking."

"Don't be so stubborn. All of that can wait-"

The consulting detective was having deju vu, was this how he looked to John. He would later reexamine this information, perhaps his friendship with John wasn't as odd as everyone supposed.

Anyway now that this mystery was cleared up, he did have better things to do.

"I'll leave you two fish wives to sort it out. Farewell Ladies. Be sure to send us an invitation to the wedding!"

"We aren't a couple!" the blonds voice followed him out of the alley. John would find this interesting all of it would be amusing to his friend, maybe he would tell his Doctor about the encounter. Well at least any would be assassins were taken care of. He accepted this as a fact, Helena had the look of pure unwavering determination. Those men wouldn't see it through the week.

Alright John, time to wake up so I can go after Hughes.


	20. BREATHING

 

**CHAPTER 20. BREATHING**

"Sherlock this is ridiculous. I want you to tell me what you know? I know you haven't been idel this whole time. I want to capture Hughes as much as you, we need to work together on this. He is a smart man with countless contacts across the globe. "

"Mycroft I already told you what I know which is inconclusive." Not exactly a lie, sure The Woman had given him the information he needed, and through a contact of her own, she had been texting Sherlock any known movements of Hughes. In return Sherlock was feeding her and her associate whatever he uncovered on the St. Pierre's. In truth Sherlock had yet to verify Hughes's whereabouts in person, so it wasn't precisely a lie more like withholding more information, Mycroft often used this same technique so it served him right.

Besides if he gave all that he knew, Mycroft would want to know his contact information. He couldn't just say _;Oh hey, by the way, The Woman is still alive. Surprise!_

Another problem was Mycroft's idiots would no doubt find a way to bumble the operation. How many times did Hughes slip through their grasp. Imbeciles, and Mycroft was their king. You couldn't blame Sherlock for his lack of confidence in their ability.

The brothers faced off, it had been two days, and John's fever was down, but he was still asleep. Doctor Green already weening the patient off of the sedatives slowly, he had expected John to be awake by now. Sherlock could see how this started to worry the specialists, he read it in the lines that crinkled around their eyes, and lips whenever they documented John's vitals.

This added to the anxiety, of both Holmes brothers, and they vented the only way they knew how, and that was on each other. Usually a certain blond Doctor played referee but they were absent a Doctor and the fight seemed to get nastier and nastier.

"I know when you're lying to me Sherlock Holmes! Don't make me handcuff an agent to you."

"I'd like to see you try brother!"

"Don't tempt me! Now tell me. What have you learned? I know you have been in contact with someone, I haven't discovered who but it's a matter of time." Mycroft growled.

Sherlock kept his face impassive, he hoped Helena and her sniper finished their business soon, the British Government wasn't exactly forgiving or understanding and he was starting to sniff around.

"I have no idea what you are getting on about! You grow more paranoid every pound you pack on."

"Sherlock Holmes-"

"If I had any information to give I know your men would only make a mess of it. Seeing how they've done such a stand up job thus far."

"Need I remind you how things ended last time you withheld information from me."

"That was far from my fault! If you hadn't opened your big mouth to Moriarty-"

Doctor Green stood in the door way trying to think of a way to calm the situation, their yelling could be heard down the hall, before he could say anything else he caught the patients eye lids twitch. He moved unnoticed passed the two Holmes brothers locked in a heated argument standing at the foot of the patients bed.

"Doctor Watson? Can you hear me?" glassy blue eyes fluttered open, he could see the man trying to focus. A hand moved to push at the tube providing oxygen to the patient. Doctor Green gently pulled the weak hand away, he took his pin light and shined it into the blue eyes of a now conscious Doctor Watson. The blond patient tried to move his head away, his hands coming up to pull at the tube.

It was expected sometimes patients woke confused and disoriented, he worried about the Doctor's military history and documented PTSD, it could make him very dangerous in his confused state. "Doctor Watson, I need you to stay calm. Do you want the tube out? Doctor Watson? John? Do you understand me?"

Hearing the obvious sounds of distress coming from the bed both Holmes brothers turned caught off guard by the two nurses and Doctor crowding a struggling ex army Doctor. When had they arrived?

Sherlock and Mycroft could read panic in their friend's eyes, he struggled against the hold of the two nurses. Sherlock was at his friend's side in one stride, nearly shoving a nurse out of the way.

"Obviously he wants the bloody tube out and of course he can hear you. Don't be an idiot." Sherlock's hand rested palm down on John's bare forearm, long slender fingers resting on the rapid pulse just under his friends wrist. The choking Doctor Watson turned his head instantly, blue eyes met gray. "John don't struggle. I know it's unbearable to suffer such fools but lets humor them." Doctor Watson gave him the usual look of reproach. Sherlock couldn't help but smile, that meant his friend was back.

"John. I want you to relax take a deep breath on the count of three I want you to breath out. Can you do that for me John?" Doctor Green tried to keep his voice steady and calm. Despite his over critical audience.

The blond man gagged when he tried to nod, Sherlock could see the discomfort in John's expression, and without knowing he took Johns hand and squeezed.

Doctor Watson coughed and sputtered once the tube was free, then taking a very deep breath. Sherlock exhaled with John, and the Doctor continued to cough, the dark haired detective quickly placed a pillow over his friends chest as instructed by the nurses, it would ease the stress, not wanting to open his still healing wound.

After what seemed like forever John finally calmed, Sherlock offered his friend a straw, he thankfully squeeze Sherlock's fingers that still rested on his wrist.

This should be acceptable, it wasn't exactly hand holding. It served a purpose, sure he could see the steady beeps of John's very strong heart, but this, this allowed him to be sure, John was breathing and he was awake. He leaned back, looking now between Mycroft and Sherlock. Both men refused to meet the disapproving blue eyes.

"Yes, yes. You can yell at us later. For now it's good to have you back."

"And what the hell-"John took a deep breath, his voice was barely a scratchy whisper "What the hell was all that about? Cant even properly sleep in a hospital without being-"John took another deep breathe, visibly wincing he swallowed. "without you two fighting." He cringed.

He had been drifting in and out, mostly in a haze for how long he couldn't say. He remembered, small pieces of one sided conversations and even then they had sounded muffled.

Except just now, the voices were breaking through, he wanted to open his eyes but his body felt so heavy, his throat burned, this all registered but mostly he thought he was dreaming. The voices were too hard, too angry for it to be any dream.

Damn who's idea was it to take him off ventilation cold turkey. Oh, yeah it was his. He recalled writing specific instructions regarding all medical procedures, and making a copy for Sherlock to present in case John was ever unable to communicate his wishes. John trusted his friend and he hadn't thought twice about putting him in charge of all medical decisions incase he was incapacitated or otherwise unable.

The fog of whatever drugs they had been weaning him off of was starting to lift, and a blanket of pain took it's place.

"First question." John groaned. "How the hell did I get here? What happened? I am assuming-"deep breath "I was shot. It feels like it at least"

Sherlock rubbed a hand over his eyes and filled his friend in on what he knew and then up to what he witnessed.

"Is everyone ok? The PC"

"Oh, don't worry John I think that young kid blames himself more than anyone"

"It was a messed up situation. I hope you aren't harboring any hard feelings."

Sherlock sat up straighter.

"Of course not John, it wasn't his fault. I can see that. It was a plan orchestrated by a power hungry mad man, and his deranged band of thugs. I certainly do not blame the pawn for costing me a knight. When it's the players fault it was moved into that position in the first place." He shot a glare at Mycroft, who only rolled his eyes.

"Just as long as you aren't-" John winced, damn if his chest didn't ache.

"John perhaps abstaining from pain medications isn't the best plan right now." Mycroft stated gently.

"I hate to say this, and it will be the only time you should ever hear me say it but, I agree with Mycroft." Sherlock's voice resigned as well as disgusted.

John laughed regretting this immediately; he clutched the pillow to him weakly, a dry cough rocking his weak frame.

"John. Please. Don't be so stubborn." Sherlock didn't care if it sounded like a plea. He was restored that his friend was seemingly alright, but seeing him in obvious pain when the medication to ease it was just a room away was distressing.

"Fine. Enough to ease the pain, I had my fill when I woke up from the first time I was shot." Sherlock understood that, he also understood John better than anyone else. He remembered a late night conversation after a particularly trying case resulting in John having six stitches at the back of his head.

He'd refused pain medication then and Sherlock couldn't understand it, until John finally admitted. Addiction terrified him, he sited examples of those in his family that succumbed to the evil of it. As a doctor he'd seen it over and over again. What if he was prone to it? Genetically programmed for it?

It may sound illogical but he couldn't help it. Sherlock had assured his friend, as a recovering addict himself he could say for certain John Watson was not at risk.

He didn't have the addictive personality, the fact that he abstained for fear of liking it too much only confirmed it that much more. John was not at risk at all.

The nurse entered and John wearily watched the medication enter the IV. He grimaced as it started to take affect. Sherlock could feel his friend relax under his hand still attached to John's wrist.

"Now what was it you were arguing about?" John held the pillow to his chest, stifling a yawn.

"Get some sleep Doctor Watson we will be sure to fill you in on all you've missed once you wake." John smiled dumbly at Mycroft.

"Mycroft, Sherlock get some sleep. You both need to eat, I'll be here when you get back." His eye lids suddenly heavy.

"Goodnight brother, John." Mycroft stood up to leave. "And don't think this is over." With a weary sigh Mycroft swept out of the private hospital room his umbrella clutched in his right hand like a sword.

Sherlock sent a quick text in reply to this new threat, he would need to leave John, but couldn't find himself able to. He could tell Mycroft what he wanted to know, but how would he explain how he came by this information, without revealing his source.

**_"I hope you have completed your business. I fear the London air will soon make it difficult to breathe perhaps a holiday some where warm would be best. This also includes your pet, London would be just as bad if not worse for your pet. I suggest keeping her leashed, when on walks."-SH_ **

**_"My business is nearly complete, sometimes finding the right location for a farewell party is difficult. Not everyone can make it at the same time. Don't worry about my pet she can take care of herself. I take it your dog is better. Speaking of leashes you may want to take him to the country, I hear the fresh air is good for dogs. Anyway you know how jumpy he gets around fire works and there is sure to be more, before I can find a place to have the party. Any suggestions?" xxooxx_ **

**_"I'll have to get back to you. Maybe it's best I help you locate your guests, to expedite your departure. As it seems you are incapable. Perhaps party planning isnt your area of expertise. I would find a different form of employment, something else in entertainment maybe. You say light show, please tell me more."-SH_ **

**_"There is still a chance your pet hasn't missed out on the fireworks, in fact they hope to include him soon. I would keep an eye on your YARD. And all those who play in it. Wouldn't want to lose anyone."-xxooxx_ **

**_"I'll be in touch."-SH_ **

**_"Likewise."-xxooxx_ **


	21. DOCTOR'S ORDERS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because only a fool argues with his doctor.

 

 

**CHAPTER 21. DOCTOR'S ORDERS**

"Don't you think it's a bit early for him to be released?" Mycroft held his umbrella tightly at his side, as if ready to use it if the individual in front of him didn't give the correct answer.

"W-whu-well Mr. Holmes sir-" Dr. Green tried to get the words out, damn he was an excellent surgeon well known, world renown and highly sought after. He had treated Prime Ministers, Presidents, high-ranking Military officials foreign and domestic, all of which had threatened, blubbered and argued over his treatment plans. Still he held his guns and always made his point come across, but for some god forbidden reason Mycroft Holmes reduced him to feeling like a stuttering first year med student.

"Yes?" Mycroft's eyebrow raised "It seems a bit rushed."

"I of course expected this out of someone you screened and hired. Why am I not surprised?!"

Now the younger Holmes was starting in, wonderful.

"Let the man talk!" Mycroft snapped.

"Why so he can site the most predictable of reasons. Oh, Mycroft you **_ARE_** an idiot."

"What the good Doctor was about to say before you two over bearing, aggravating mother hens started clucking is; that I am a Doctor after all, any more attempts to keep me here is going to look a lot like trying to keep me here for your comfort rather than mine. Also stating that being a Doctor with a medical degree, combat field medical experience and training and not to mention years of experience from patching up soldiers, civilians and the RECKLESS, IDIOT OF A FLATMATE who charges into situation without a thought, I would know how to take care of keeping a few bandages clean." Both Holmes were looking at the shorter man now wagging a finger at them both, and standing on his own, albeit a little pale but it was to be expected. Doctor Green scanned the two brothers and nearly falling over in shock, the expressions on both faces were identical.

Eyes downcast, a light blush running from the back of their necks to their foreheads, they looked like school boys being scolded by the head master. And Doctor Watson could play the part, it helped that he'd changed into his own clothes, a brown jumper, and comfortable blue Jeans.

"Have I got it right Doctor?" Blue eyes softened with amusement. Doctor Green tried to find his voice, the man was addressing him.

"Thought so." John approached the doctor, stepping between the two unusually quiet brothers taking the file gently from the younger doctor. "Anything interesting in there?"

"Just the usual Doctor. Patient history, vaccinations-" John shrugged wincing slightly. So his psych eval was in there, well Mycroft was a thorough if not efficient man.

"Doctor Green it's been a pleasure. I think I can take care of patient care from here, I'll be wanting those discharge papers." John used his Captain Watson voice, and the other man found himself replying

"Yes sir. Right away."

As Doctor Green hurried down the corridor breathing easily, he would definitely need to reassess his initial impression of the ex army doctor. Originally wondering how someone of his nature got mixed up with these two Holmes, Doctor Green assumed the man to be maybe another bodyguard or something along those lines.

Except the man wasn't built like one, he could be an agent but the last time they'd met he came across-well ordinary. Polite and though he wasn't world renown(like himself), Doctor Green had been informed by several of the Doctor's colleagues that Watson was very skilled in his profession.

It didn't answer his question, the man was a minnow swimming with sharks. The kind of sharks, that swallowed you whole. Doctor Green rubbed a hand at the back of his neck. John's surgeon was standing at the desk sipping gourmet coffee.

"Discharge papers huh?"

"Yeah, but I don't know-"

"Oh, believe me, he'll be released today."

"Maybe-"

"This isn't my first rodeo." Doctor Green looked over at the Texan, the Surgeon showed up at the same time the rest of the assembled medical team had. Dr. Green had never worked with the man but he'd heard his name, he was a pretty pricey plastic surgeon.

"And why are you here?" Doctor Green raised an eyebrow. The other man smiled easily.

"Same as you. Got called in."

"Surely you don't need the money. You're a plastic surgeon anyhow, why would Mr. Holmes pick you? No offense, unless he thought the wound would need reconstructive surgery or limb salvaging."

"Oh, before I was a cosmetic surgeon to the stars, I worked at a little place called Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio, Texas. Maybe you've heard of it."

"That's a level five facility."

"Yes I know. I thought his wound would be worse off than it was, man's lucky it wasn't closer to his heart, but I'm sure that being your area you understand that." He leaned easily against the nurse's station.

"So you're an army doctor as well."

"Surgeon just like Doctor Watson."

"You know him?"

"Not directly, helped out someone I know. So when I heard that I could be of some use well I volunteered. From what I've heard about him it's best you get those papers ready, he's got a reputation for being stubborn."

Doctor Green tried to keep the look of irritation off his face. What the hell was a rodeo?

Collecting the necessary instructions he thought back to the first encounter with Doctor Watson's temper, well maybe he wasn't so much a minnow, could be a piranha-little fish big bite.

"And I want my bloody shoes!" Doctor Green jumped hearing the booming voice from down the corridor.

The blond Doctor paused briefly holding his palm to the chest, the bandages were there, he could feel them, the ache a reminder that moving to fast wasn't the best idea.

Doctor Green glanced down realizing the man didn't have shoes on, instead he was wearing a pair of blue hospital slippers.

"The papers?"

"Yes Doctor Watson, right here, with some discharge instructions, the usual."

"Yes, and I'll save you the recommendations as to where you could put those. I'm a Doctor and as one professional to another, you understand." Doctor Green noted the slight tremor in John's right hand, he was leaning into the nurses station, perhaps for support. Signs of fatigue clearly announcing themselves, Doctor Green was about to point this out when the Texan interrupted.

"Doctors do make the worst patients. You understand if you over do it and tear those stitches or in anyway push yourself before your body is ready, that not only will you be back here, and if those two have a say locked in a room until your completely at 100%, but they will hunt the nice Doctor here and myself down and bury us out in some field. Because I'm sure they'll need someone to blame."

John smiled now, holding in a laugh, because laughing would definitely hurt.

"Oh, Doctor don't be ridiculous we both know it wouldn't be a field, more like washed up on the Thames." John offered with a grin.

"I'll have to agree. Seems more their style." Both Army Doctors laughed now, John winced placing a hand over his chest.

"Doctor Watson perhaps you should sit." Doctor Green suggested, deciding he really didn't want to be here.

"Naw, I think this man here needs a drink. And a good comfortable arm chair."

"Good idea. Doctor-" John offered his hand.

"Oh, of course. I forgot. The names Christopher Bailey. My friends call me Chris. I was the one who played operation on your chest. The last time we spoke you were a little tired so I suppose you wouldn't remember me."

"John if everything is in order we can go. I took the liberty of having your shoes cleaned; they'll be in the car downstairs. Seemed a bit of a waste of time to just wait for someone to bring them up." John realized that his clothes from that day were most likely binned and Sherlock would have to have his favorite brown shoes cleaned due to the amount of blood that stained them. He couldn't be too angry now.

"Oh, Sherlock, I'm sure you know Doctor Green and Doctor Bailey-"

"Yes, yes. John the car is waiting. I would like to get out of this carnival that caters to so many idiots. Doctors." Sherlock gave a brief nod and with his hands in his dark coat pockets swept down the hall.

"Sorry. Nice meeting you. I hope we don't meet again too soon." Doctor Green could see the amused look in the Texan's eyes.

"So that's him. Doctor Watson. Poor guy's got his hands full."

"You have no idea." Mycroft Holmes stood next to both Doctors, clutching his umbrella his knuckles almost white. "Doctors. You will find your transportation home has been arranged. Thank you gentlemen." Doctor Green was happy to leave. "Oh, Doctor Bailey. I left your ticket open, I understand your brother in law and sister have moved back to London."

"Yes they have. Wish I could tell them I've met Doctor Watson. But I do understand the discretion needed. Anyway he probably wouldn't remember Josh. He was just one of many, Captain Watson managed to save. I'll tell you what though, because of that man my nephew knows his father and my sister still has a husband."

"London is a big city, but I'm sure the good Doctor just might cross their path." Doctor Bailey smiled again took his leave without a goodbye.


	22. CARNIVAL OF IDIOTS

 

 

**CHAPTER 22. CARNIVAL OF IDIOTS**

Sherlock sat quietly in the lounge pretending to read a news paper, the man he waited for had kept to the same schedule, Sherlock's disguise was easy enough, wearing a god awful button up shirt with palm trees printed on it, the khaki pants and hideous sandals all screamed tourist, vacationing banker. He checked the time, the man was late, he'd kept to the same schedule all week, what changed now? Something was off, glancing around making a quick deduction; he neatly folded the paper up, placed it in his chair and left the lounge so obviously filled with Mycroft's agents, three pretending to be business men on vacation, a waitress, the bartender and of course lets not leave out the damn janitor. Idiots botched this, obviously his mark picked up on the fact the place was swarming with agents and so he fled.

**_The Woman_** had been somewhat accurate in her information, but Hughes was like Mycroft highly paranoid and overly pompous therefore predictable to a point.

For these reasons he would have to follow a known associate, seeing how Hughes was now in deep hiding, especially after word got out one of his men had been captured alive. Now the infuriating ex government agent was changing locations every night he slept somewhere else. Sherlock knew he'd wasted valuable time waiting on John to be home from the hospital before setting out to track down Hughes. The consulting detective needed to know John was safe, and that he would be alright, anything less would create a mind numbing flood of emotion that would distract him from the task at hand.

So, Sherlock waited for John to leave the hospital and the next day he caught a plane to the Caymans. Of course Mycroft and John both were under the impression he was tracking down leads in London. Thanks to his homeless network and the purchase of several Bellstaff coats a little hair dye he was sure to keep Mycroft and his men busy for at least a couple days.

He  kept texting John every few hours, complaining about Mycroft's men following him around, he also stated, he was enjoying the thought of making them run around. Which wasn't a lie, but John now believed he was just playing hide and seek for the sake of making a point.

Mycroft helped in that department, by being overly protective. Due to the fact that John declined rather pointedly, extra protection and flat out told Mycroft where he could put his idea of John recuperating at a private hospital in the country. In response Mycroft practically smothered John with protection, and the idiots couldn't even act as if they weren't agents.

John being the man of extreme patience decided to give them what they wanted, and had no desire to play cat and mouse for the sake of it. As Sherlock had offered, claiming it would be great fun and definitely stave off the boredom.

John being John opted to sit this out, which Sherlock of course anticipated, having no desire or intention to put John in danger.

Sherlock wondered as he left the hotel lounge if John was tired of the well wishers and the endless invites out to the pub as soon as he was on his feet again. Really why would John wish to go to a pub and socialize with the officers from the Yard? The consulting detective knew his blogger hated being the center of attention it just wasn't his nature, and all this recognition was keeping him firmly in his chair, avoiding people and their constant praises, John remained at the flat, and to Sherlock's satisfaction, safe and sound.

The younger Holmes knew something was wrong, the gray car parked down the street with two lovers necking in the back seat, dead give away. Oh, Mycroft-then another look a woman walking a small poodle, obvious. Moving at a more brisk pace towards his rental car, a loud thunderous boom erupted the quiet afternoon paradise, he was flung forward by the sudden force followed by a heat washing over him. Turning over slowly Sherlock sat up slowly, coughing he squinted through the dark cloud of smoke and dust surrounding him, finally he was able to see flames consuming the last of what was his hotel. After the ringing finally left his ears, he could hear the nearing sirens.

_**~0~** _

John knew that his flatmate was in a bad mood before he entered the front door, having heard his thunderous stomping as he marched up the steps to their flat. He looked up from his news paper, shaking his head and returning to the interesting article on a bombing in the Caymans at some resort. His friend had a sour look on his face, hands pushed into his dark coat pockets, he looked a little flushed because it couldn't be a sun tan, there was no sun out, in fact it had been bloody cold these last few days.

"I take it playing hide and seek wasn't as fun as you anticipated."

"Mycroft cheats. He has the cctv, and satellite!"

"Yes well, he doesn't seem like the type to play fair. You alright? Your looking a little flushed."

"I'm fine. Too much sun." he growled stomping towards his room. John only shook his head, after all these years he knew better than to ask.

"I'm going to the market to get milk, need anything."

"A new brother!" Sherlock shouted from his bedroom.

"Right, I'll check if they have any in stock." John rolled his eyes grabbing his coat he started out the door. "I'll be back please don't start any fires, and I think the thumbs are off, it's starting to smell in the fridge."

John waved to the agents across the street, the two men were pretending to wash a window, either John was getting better at deduction or Mycroft's men were getting worse at disguises.

John thought he saw some young man in Sherlock's coat, but figured anyone could have a similar coat. Nearing the shop he saw a few others, it slowly dawned on him what Sherlock had been up too, well partially. The idea that he'd gone far enough to supply coats to some of his homeless network made John laugh out loud.

He decided a walk through the park to clear his lungs, he'd stayed indoors wanting to just lie low. Recognition was always so awkward, he never could accept thanks, why would someone thank him for doing the right thing. Anyone else would have done the same in his position, so lets not make a fuss.

_**~0~** _

Sherlock through himself onto the couch, the flat always felt so cold when John was gone. He wondered if John did something like adjust the thermostat and that was why. Sherlock put his long legs up over the arm of the well loved furniture. He stiffened, catching the sent of a familiar perfume.

"What?"

"Oh, I'm hurt is that how you greet an old friend?"

"Go away."

"I want to know you got Hughes. That's what you were up to isnt it?" The woman sat in John's chair her shapely legs crossed knees pointed in Sherlock's direction, she was wearing a red coat, her hair still in a red bun, by the way her fingers tapped the arms of the chair he could tell she already knew the answer.

"What about you? Any luck with the St. Perriers?"

"None, seems they got spooked by a certain British Government snooping around!"

"Don't sound surprised you had ample time. This just isnt your game. You should pack up and go home."

"I always finish what I start. I was just giving you the face to face courtesy of saying goodbye. I wont be in touch. As for the St. Pierres, I don't think they are to much of a threat to you or your little boyfriend. At least for the time being. Hughes is in hiding and his associates have been told to maintain a radio silence."

"He'll make a mistake."

"Yes well, lets hope another hotel doesn't pay the price."

"Since when do you care about others?"

"I don't. It's just as I said. I see things to the end."

"Oh. Where is your little pet?"

"Three blocks over leading your brothers agents on a merry little chase." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Goodbye Irene."

"I wont be helping you, you're on your own!"

_**~0~** _

As a sniper Jesse had learned to be patient, to sit, stand, lay for hours without moving just waiting. She could do this with almost anything but when it came to Helena she worried, glancing at her watch Helena was late. She should have been back three minutes ago.

Jesse checked her mobile, nothing. She decided on a quick text, no response, usually Helena texted back immediately. Jesse had lead several agents several blocks away from 221B. Idiots, hadn't picked up on the fact she, a military trained sniper would be a bit more discreet and less obvious. Jesse managed to lose them after three more blocks, but now Helena was supposed be here. Jesse promised Helena that she would stay away from 221B, but her nerves were getting the best of her. Times up, Jesse thought, after no text and no sight of her friend. The sniper set off to 221B, she'd make someone pay if her friend was harmed.


	23. VETERANS

 

**CHAPTER 23. VETERANS**

As the hard kick of a booted women's size 7 made contact with Sherlock's left side, he had to admit he may just have misjudged the blond snipers hand to hand combat skills. Even with her obvious injuries still paining her, she managed to block his kick to her bruised side pulling his leg up and sweeping the other out from under him.

"Alright curly locks! I am not asking again! Where the hell is she?" Abby tried to steady her breathing damn if she wasn't sore, and may have pulled a few stitches, no matter, this one was going to talk or god help her she'd decorate the wall with his brain matter-wait was that a smiley face? With bullet holes?

"As I've said before. I do not know where she is. She left less than a half and hour ago. Did you think she might just not want you to come along." His words sounded muffled against the carpet, she pushed his head down, remaining straddled to his back, the guy was thin, she could easily do some damage. He put up a good fight, but having dealt with his type before she knew he'd underestimate her. They always did, she wasn't just a blond with a gun, she had been a soldier a lots of bad days.

"Is that right, explain the fact her phone was found a block away. She obviously left here, that was the planned exit route. Now, you are really starting to test my patience mate. If you don't start talking I'll have to make you."

"What makes you think I have anything to do with her disappearance?" Sherlock was trying to assess the situation, sure she had him pinned but he'd been in worse spots. That and he needed to get rid of her before John came in, he wasn't well enough for an altercation.

"Because the place is being watched oh so carefully by government agents. Don't know who you are, don't care. I just want you to talk!"

"Ah, that makes two of us." Came a steady male voice from behind her. Dammit, she must be loosing her edge, she hadnt seen anyone else enter, he must have come up during her little struggle. "Oh, if I wasn't clear enough, I do have a gun and its aimed squarely at the back of your head."

"You wouldn't-"

"Oh, you might not want to tempt him, he's killed people on his bad days." Sherlock stated into the carpet.

"Shut up!" She pushed her Browning into the back of the mans dark curls.

"I wont count I will kill you. Now up you go."

"John you're back early."

"Well it's a good thing, seems I cant leave the flat for a minute without you blowing something up or being attacked." John replied as if making a comment on the weather. His voice hardened when he spoke the blong. " Slow now let him up."

Abby could hear the steel in his voice, where the hell had he come from?

"John don't worry she isnt here to kill me, everything is perfectly fine. I have this under control." Still talking into the carpet.

"What?" The sniper was confused now, who the hell were these two?

Abby couldn't believe the absurdity of the situation, where the hell was Helena. She had gone off on her own before, always resulting in Abby having to come find her and followed by a huge shoot out of some sort the exasperating friend of hers would shrug and say something like _"You're late."_ This was different, she never left her phone, and there had been a text unsent. This had to do with him! The sound of a slide loading a bullet to a chamber-wait she knew that click, familiar. Moving off the man slowly she held her hands up.

"Good you have some sense after all. Now throw your weapon down." John kept his browning trained on the blond women in the green canvas coat, interesting he had one like that. "Sherlock you alright anything broken."

"I had the situation under control John really."

"Oh, it certainly looked like it."

"She's not going to shoot me John."

"Oh, I suppose she was just pointing her gun at your head for shits and giggles."

"Now John-" Sherlock was cut off.

"I didn't say you could move just yet. And I want that gun!" John growled sending an icy glare towards the unknown woman.

"No." Abby coolly replied putting her hands down slowly. The curly haired pretty boy was on his feet standing between her and the man in a black jacket. John moved with every intention of firing his weapon, Sherlock stepped into his path a hand on his friends forearm.

"John. It's fine. She isnt a threat just a misunderstanding."

"Sherlock-do you mind telling me what the hell is going on?"

"Sorry to interrupt this lovers spat but I'm still here. Yeah, the kiwi with the gun."

"Oh shut up." Sherlock snapped.

"We arent a couple!" John glared over Sherlock's shoulder. "Who are you?" then turning back to Sherlock "Who the hell is she?"

"Still have a gun." Abby growled through clinched teeth who the hell did this man think he was. She wished for Helena's keen eye, the now red head would have been able to figure out whether or not this man in the expensive suit would know anything useful. But she wasn't, something was wrong and this was wasting her time. She tried to take a deep breath, her ribs were still painfully sore, that would take time to heal, her head started to throb, the fight took a little more out of her then she could give. Sheer stubborn aggression fueled by adrenaline kept her on her feet, firmly planted up right. She had soldiered on through worse. No pun intended. 

Sherlock looked to John he was breathing heavy, sweat above his upper lip and gathered on his forehead, the adrenaline rush was about to drop him. And the stiff set to the blond man's shoulders slightly twisting in short breaths, he was in pain. Oh, John must have bolted up the stairs that would cost him.

"John please sit, uh Abbs I suggest you do the same before you end up face first on the carpet. It's not as comfortable as it sounds, I know from experience."

"Don't call me Abbs!" she growled but to Sherlock's amusement both ex soldiers slumped back, John into a chair and Abbs into the couch.

"Good now that, that's all settled. Let me see the phone. I assume there is an unsent text on it. It may just provide us with a clue."

Abby feeling the exhaustion, if this man was an old friend of Helena's then she would somewhat trust him. The other one she didn't trust just yet, he had a battle hardened look about him, dressed comfortably sure, but she knew about disguises, snipers were trained to identify threats, wolves in sheep's clothing. He was far from commonplace, no she could read his blue eyes, he was sizing up her weaknesses to her surprise he was doing the same thing she was. And was that a-

"Is that a browning?" the both asked at the same time. Sherlock ignored their question he was scanning the text messages sent, he stopped paying attention to the two.

"So who are you looking for?"

"My friend Helena said she was stopping in. She's been a bit on edge of late. We were supposed to meet she was late. Thought your boyfriend there could help me out."

"He's not my boyfriend." John put a hand to his chest, damn he might have opened the slightly healed wound. He would manage, having had worse in his time as a soldier and Sherlock's flatmate.

"What makes you think Sherlock's got anything to do with your girlfriends disappearance."

"She's not my girlfriend." Abby glared, the older man had a hand to his chest.

"hand gun?"

"Yeah, right to the chest."

"Nothing fatal your lucky a bigger caliber wouldn't have been so clean I'm sure."

"Shrapnel?" John inquired identifying the tell tale cuts and slight burns on the woman's hand and face, that and she had stiffly allowed herself to fall back into the couch, her leg obviously paining her. As an army doctor he had operated on such injuries.

"Yeah."

"So who are you?"

"Jesse. So that's your flatmate?"

"John. And yes. Unfortunately."

"I thought I had problems. I feel for you mate. No wonder you've been shot. Suppose you were in the service. Let me guess, army."

"Yes. Good guess. You-I'm going to guess the same."

"Yeah. Retired though."

"Injury?"

"Yes, a bit of metal shavings from an explosion a few years back, scratched my retina, I can see good enough but the army wasn't to keen on a sniper with less than 20/20 vision. You?"

"Shot in the shoulder, a retiring hit."

By the time Sherlock was through running scenarios and sorting through information in his mind palace, he turned to find the two blond soldiers laughing easily.

And when had John made tea?

"And then he says- _ **'John I assumed you would be here a lot sooner, was I not quiet clear and obvious in my message just where you could find me?'** _ " John spoke to this blond woman as if he'd known longer than an hour.

"Oh, he expected you to figure it out when he used three words! I can one up you on that-" Abby giggled.

"If you two are through I believe I have located where Irene-or Helena as you know her is being held."

"Irene? Irene Adler?" John rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to ask I'm sure you will explain later."

"Where!" the blond demanded.

"I cant be sure, I will need to speak to my homeless network."

"Mycroft?"

"I wish it were that simple John. My brother doesn't have her, but she isn't in any present danger. They only have suspicions and will more than likely make contact."

"Mycroft Holmes! That's **_your_** brother?"

"Yes. Do keep up."

John could see the younger woman roll her eyes, then shooting him a sympathetic look. He would have laughed if Sherlock wasn't already grabbing his coat.

"Wait where are you going?" John was on his feet, not holding back the hiss of pain.

"I'm going with you." Abby slowly pushed herself to her feet.

"NO, you both stay here. If my brother sees a sniper leaving the building his men will shoot first ask questions later."

"But-" Abby was about to protest when she caught a tight look on the other soldiers face, of course, she knew this game. Really how could these geniuses be so slow!

"Fine. We'll be here. Waiting patiently for your return." John sighed in resignation.

"It wont be long." Sherlock grabbed his scarf and swept out the door.

"If you aren't to sore, I say we give him about ten minutes of a head start, then we follow, five if you think it's not pushing it." John started to stand emptying his tea cup.

"Right. Five then." John shot her a quizzical look. "My injuries aren't as bad as I made out." Abby finished her tea, "How about you? You know I could go alone. I'm trained in extractions."

"Oh, I may have over played my own. And he thinks I'm a bad actor."

"Well that's settled. Got any Paracetamol?"

"Sure. And then since we've got about four minutes you can tell me what exactly is going on."

"Fair enough. But you'll have to do the same." John nodded, he had faith in this woman's stealth, she managed to sneak up on Sherlock and not to mention making it past half a dozen of the British Governments handpicked agents.


	24. STRATEGY

 

 

**CHAPTER. 24. STRATEGY**

"Irene Adler what a turn up. It's like Christmas! Two for the price of one. You know I've always told your brother Mr. Holmes if you want something done it's best to do it yourself."

"Oh how original." Sherlock rolled his eyes, tugging at the infernal zip ties. Really, why couldn't they have been more predictable and used rope. He could manage rope a little better, even sometimes handcuffs, and this wasn't at all a very comfortable position. This situation was in fact a bit not good. John would be very unhappy about this, well he wouldn't need to know if Sherlock could get them out of this one.

"You know you two are so much a like it's disgusting. So over confident, so proud and smug. But how smug are you now!" Hughes nodded to one of the St. Perrier brothers, the taller of the two, he brought a very heavy fist hard against Sherlock's left cheek.

"Please, I am nothing like my brother-"Sherlock replied in disgust.

"Oh, maybe your right. Come to think of it, you have been the one to come the closest to finding me. I would have never even guessed it, until one of my former colleagues had been spotted on the island. It wasn't to hard to make assumptions from there. You know you and that brother of yours have been causing me a bit of trouble. Not to mention that damn doctor friend! How that idiot managed to take out a handful of well trained mercenaries, with only a couple of bumbling cops and a few hand guns. It was somewhat surprising. Then it was my fault for not doing it properly, my people neglected to look up the dear Doctor's service record. Figures Mycroft Holmes would put a competent military man in charge of babysitting his little brother. He is harder than you to kill and that's saying much. Seeing how you've faked your own suicide."

"Is there going to be a point to this speech. It's getting a little boring." This earned Sherlock another hard hit.

"As for you Miss. Adler, there is a certain South American who is offering quiet the prize, except she thinks your name is Helena. That's fine with me her money is good for whatever." Sherlock looked over at a dazed Helena, she had a rather nasty bruise over her left temple, and eyes appeared glassy obviously still a little drugged. Explained her silence, no matter, Sherlock started to form a possible plan of escape.

"Some women can hold such a grudge." Helena murmured.

"Yes well, not all women can let infidelity go. In fact that particular cheating husband did end up on the side of some road heart ripped out. You however managed to get away. She is particularly interested in how." Sherlock caught the sudden stiffening of Helen's thin shoulders. There was blood dried the side of her face, he could see it dark against the pale of her skin even in this dim lighting. Looking at the two men in front of him he could deduce by the bruises and vicious scratch marks on their faces that she'd put up a pretty good fight, good.

"I was lucky, bribed one of the guards."

"No, I don't think so. You see, I've been doing some spying on you as you have been doing some one me. I have a feeling you are working with someone."

Helena laughed now, "Oh dear man. You claim to know so much about me. You should know a woman like myself works alone. Less profit to split and all that."

"Oh, shame. The newly widowed Mrs. Hernandez was offering another million Eros, just to know who helped you. So as a personal favor, as we are now doing some gun running together, I offered to find out as a courtesy. Doesn't take too much talent. I cant believe she didn't see it herself." Helena glared at the man in the gray suit.

"Is this going to be much longer, I'm starting to agree with Mr. Holmes. Your excessive squawking is starting to give me a headache." Sherlock could make a guess himself now the connection between Abby and Helena. "I bet Mrs. Hernandez now the head of Los Asesinos cartel would be very interested in your little associate."

"What are you going on about?" Helena gave a mocking laugh. "You think I worked with someone. What I did was easy, I offered the guard outside my room a large sum of money he couldn't resist, on the condition of my freedom and aid across the Brazilian border."

"Oh, how sweet you try to keep her shielded. Tell me is she your newest toy? Does she even know what you do with the things you get bored with? I bet if I offered you a chance to live for her whereabouts you would sell her out to quick."

Sherlock watched Helena/Irene whoever, her face remained pinched despite her effort at looking bored.

"So how about it, where's the Australian? Huh? She's got quiet the bounty on her head, I could easily make twice the amount for her than for you. I could make you a deal."

"Go to hell!"

"Wrong answer! No worries my little dominatrix, you'll be there soon. As for your adoring pet she's not as clever as you she'll be an easy catch. I'll just lay down some bread crumbs."

"She's not my partner. I dont know what you think you know. You can try, but she contacts me when she needs an extra set of hands on a mission. I dont even know where she is. I only know her as the Australian. So do what you have to. But dont hold your breath idiot." Sherlock caught the bluff, but Hughes wasnt as keen, he looked a little lost for words.

"Alright. Fair enough. Why don't you give us her contact information."

"What?"

"Come now you have no loyalty to each other. Give me her information."

"Why? SO you can kill me?"

"So I can bring you in dead, because if I take you to Mrs. Hernandez you'll wish you were dead."

Sherlock knew the expression, it was one of complete resolve, she would take that secret to her grave. This was getting a bit more not good.

He needed to buy them some time, something "I'm surprised your doing your own leg work thought the big boys such as you and my brother didn't like to get your hands to dirty. I figured you would be far away on some exotic beach making weapons deals via text."

"One makes exceptions for Sherlock Holmes and the notorious Woman. Besides, your brother would never think I'd return to the city, and he's to busy looking for me elsewhere. He makes it all so easy."

"You're an idiot. If you think my brother isn't already on to you."

"Your brother Mr. Holmes has made many powerful enemies. The only problem I keep running into is that of you and your precious little blogger and all the fools you associate with at the Yard! So I figure I take the favorite knight and pawns off the bored leaving the king vulnerable to attack. "

_**~0~** _

"We have to coordinate." John crouched down, two men at the front gate, two more could be seen walking the perimeter. What was it with bad guys and choosing industrial areas with abandoned warehouses, it was getting rather old.

"Fine, you're the Captain, so what do you purpose?"

"Right, we'll have to be quiet, I'll send a quick text to Mycroft, but that has a down side. My guess is that if Mycroft caught Irene-or Helena he wouldn't want to let her go."

"I'd make him."

"Right, see. Killing Sherlock's brother would definitely put a damper on things. Besides, Mycroft means well. So, I will send the text when we have them in our sights. You can make your way out as we make ours. Before Mycroft and the whole British Government shows up guns blazing. What we will need is a little **_bait and bleed._** If you're up to it."

"Sounds fun." Abby rummaged through her duffel bag she had kept in an alley three blocks from the flat. They had slipped unnoticed by the government agents and she'd pulled it from a dumpster.

"Just a few things?" John had teased.

"Well you know the necessities. Always be prepared is my motto."

"Sure, looks like your more than prepared for an all out war-are these flash grenades?" John held a small canister up.

"Yeah. Never leave home without them. So we ready? I'm assuming your tacking point."

"Yeah, if you don't mind, I'd like to have a crack shot behind me in case I get in to deep, I'm good but I'm no sniper." She smiled

"Fine by me." Abby's jaw clinched a bit John knew exactly what she was going to say so he stopped her.

"I understand where your loyalties lie. If we are caught under fire and you have the opportunity to get Helena out. Fine. I'm not under any illusions that it's going to be a walk in the park. I know you have your priorities and your loyalty lies with Ire-Helena. Just watch my back and I'll do the same and we'll cross that bridge when we get there."


	25. IN ARMS

 

**CHAPTER 25. IN ARMS**

John moved quietly towards the front entrance, he turned briefly not seeing Jesse, then he sensed movement, he suspected only because she wanted him to know she was still there. He took point with ease, he felt better leading off, the first man he brought down with a choke hold, something quiet, looking over at the second man, Jesse had done the same.

Both ex-soldiers  agreed earlier on, to only use their guns if it was necessary, a gun shot would definitely sound an alarm. They tied up the unconscious men gagged them and left them tied up in the shadow of the building. Of course taking a page out of the enemies play book, they stole the uniforms. Strapping the AK's over their backs. John winced his hand to his chest, the choke hold had pulled the barely healing skin from the area. Looking at Jesse's pinched face he could see she felt her own pains, but they had started something and they damn well would see it to the end.

The sun was starting to set, that was fine, gave them more cover. The idea behind bait and bleed is to divide and conquer. So they needed to first get into the facility preferably undetected, and so far so good. A little disruption, they would need the enemy to believe that they were under attack, and by some one disguised as they were. This would cause a lovely bit of chaos, maybe they'd end up shooting each other in the process. _'Lets see how they like it!'_ John thought to himself. Once inside he sent a text to Lestrade and one to Mycroft. Giving the them at least 30 minutes before anyone reached them, the warehouse being out in the middle of nowhere.

Scanning the area, John noted a handful of empty meat lockers off to the left of the large building, that would be a good place to start looking. Stationing themselves behind some empty crates when the sound of voices echoed through the building, the two soldiers crouched ready to attack if necessary. 

"Get her in there! The Boss wants her alive he's contacting the cartel as we speak."

John could make out the limp body small enough to be-

"Helena." Jesse whispered pulling her weapon, John put a hand out to still her.

"Not yet. There are armed men, you don't want to risk her further injury. Stick to the plan."

Jesse nodded curtly, but John could understand her tension, where the hell was Sherlock? Jesse headed left taking an quick exit she fired three shots into the air followed by two more, tossing the weapon down she hid around the corner, John remained hidden until several men in similar black attire rushed out towards the sound heavily armed, John mingled with the group.

"There!" he yelled. And to his amusement the idiots started firing, "They're headed for the south gate!" John managed to yell out convincingly. The three men rushed forward, John entered into the building nearly colliding with three more.

"Good! They're going around! Better head them off! They're wearing our uniforms! At least three of them!"

"Right! You heard him!" one of the men instructed heading out the opposite door. He waited then signaled for Jesse to follow. The sound of gunfire outside the building and more men heading out, good there was the confusion. After taking out the two men standing guard outside the room that Helena had been dragged into, Jesse shot the lock off, and pulled the rusted door open.

Jesse entered first "Took you long enough." Jesse smiled despite herself, she could see the blood and the bruise staining her friends flawless porcelain skin.

"Oh, Helena, the trouble you get in." Jesse cut the zip ties and helped her friend stand. Hiding the anger she felt towards her friends handling. Helena wasn't soft by any means, but Jesse felt her stomach turn anytime her friend had been hurt needlessly. You could tell she was born with manners and class, this kind of fighting was never her thing, Jesse had been trained for it, she could handle an interrogation, a ruff kidnapping. If she was hurt anywhere else-

"I'm fine Jesse. It's just a bump to the head and some sedative. Nothing I haven't done before." Helena smiled easily reading her friends thoughts.

"Irene-or Helena whatever. Where's Sherlock?" John kept a stance in the door way still watching the hall.

"You-aren't you injured?"

"Where is he?" John could see she was drugged her eyes still glassy, he put a hand to her neck, pulse was a bit slow, he tilted her head checking the gash, already clotted. A few scraps and bruises all superficial.

"She'll be alright looks like the run of the mill sedative, give it a couple hours. Keep her hydrated after."

"I can see why he loves you." Helena gave a thin smile.

"Oh, god you really must be out of it. We aren't a couple, now tell me where is he?"

"I don't know they were dragging him away when I was pulled out of this room. Last I was in the room second to the left down the hall looks like an old office."

Jesse looked at Helena, and the retreating form of the Doctor, also a Captain-damn it. She felt torn, but Helena needed her, "Can you walk Helena?"

"Yes, I'm fine. We can't let Hughes live Abbs. He knows who you are. That you were the one who broke me out of the Hernandez compound."

"So."

"He'll tell them. They'll hunt you down."

"I'd like to see them try." Jesse put an arm around her friend's small waist. "Now is the worst time for heels."

"They are Louboutin! Really what would you have me in? Converse or worse-combat boots?" Jesse didn't reply, she handed the red head her glock.

"Take this. You might need it. I have a score to settle, and I want you to be armed. I'm not going to ask you to come with me Helena, you could easily slip off the property. We could meet up at the Hotel-"

"No. I'm sorry I-I don't doubt your skill Abbs. You know that right? I was afraid you would be hurt again, that's why I tried to handle this all alone. And-and I don't know how to cope if you were taken from me. I mean, that time you were unconscious I think my heart failed, my legs refused to work and I couldn't hear a thing. It was the oddest feeling and I dont ever wish to feel it again. I've never had a sister Abbs, but if I did. I think those feelings would be categorized as akin to siblings. It's distracting."

"Now you know how I feel when I worry about you. Now come on." Abbs held back a grin, she knew she loved Helena like a sister, although she never had sisters, well in the army she bonded with the men and women, they protected each other after her discharge she'd lost the only family she'd ever known and when Helena came along.

"Come on then. Stay behind me you idiot."


	26. THE BUSINESS OF WAR

 

**CHAPTER 26. THE BUSINESS OF WAR**

Sherlock could hear the sounds of guns firing, Hughes and the St. Pierre idiot turned towards the door, forgetting momentarily the question they were demanding answers too. Well Mycroft took long enough. Sherlock frowned, he hated being saved by the older Holmes he'd never live it down.

"Qu'est-ce que c'est? " (What is it?) Hughes growled gesturing towards the door, he was hauling the thinner Holmes up to his feet. "Lets go for a walk. Gregorio! Take care of it!"

_**~o~** _

John caught sight of a man holding an AK, the halls were full of smoke where John had let the flash grenade take care of the six men that had crowded the way at the end of the corridor. Who ever the stranger was he was looking cautiously moving towards the smoke and coughing.

This man had on a suit, he wasn't wearing the same gear as the others, this suggested he was important a little higher on the food chain, so John got behind him as he passed, 'And choke hold.' John thought to himself, wrapping arms around the taller man's neck, tightening it up with the bend of his elbow, and down he went. John tied his hands and feet, with the zip cords he always carried. If he had a pen and some paper he would write to _Scotland Yard. with Love -John._ But this would have to do for now.

He followed the obvious path the other man had taken. He could hear yells in French then English. Not good, but nothing John couldn't or wouldn't handle. He held his own Browning close to him, and made his way down the dark corridors cautiously, remember he was still wearing the uniform.

So when three well armed men came down the badly light corridor, he turned his back and pretended to fire into the smoke. The others rushed around him, cautiously moving forward, one yelled into a radio. John moved back behind the three.

"South corridor has been breached."

"How many?" someone turned to him, squinting in the darkness. 

"At least ten sir. Bastards are wearing our gear! Is the prisoner secure? I think they're here for him!" he held back a smile as this was reported into the radio in English then again in French.

"Yes, he's with Mr. Hughes, they are headed for the South Gate. We are to hold the attack off-"

"Yes. Sir." John replied.

"Come on boys cautious now." John waited for them to pass, and he continued down the darkening corridor, at least he knew where to go.

_**~0~** _

"You don't understand it, you could never comprehend it for all the genius you claim to have. War is about business Sherlock Holmes, and I wanted to be the CEO, your brother on the other hand is all about crowd control and prevention. There's no money in safety." Sherlock glared at the man, he was insane.

"People die because of decisions made-you are talking about profit."

"Oh now you are sounding like him. Don't you understand, THAT'S WHAT PEOPLE DO! They're all going to die anyway, why not make a euro or two million. No hard feelings Mr. Holmes you just got in my way. Your brother with his high morals,  was starting to take notice of some leaked data to our enemies. I needed this distraction."

"You are telling me you put lives at risk, injured innocent officers for-a distraction? So my brother would look right while you were left?" Sherlock felt a cold anger start to build, thinking of the unarmed Yarders, the injuries his friends sustained and the deaths caused, all for the sake of a distraction. 

"Basically and it was working, like I said until your damn blogger showed up at the first explosion. I knew Mycroft may be on to us when I found he'd sent his brothers favorite dog." Sherlock snorted this was humorous despite the situation.

"You sir,  are an idiot and nowhere on the level of my brother and that is saying a lot-John was there waiting for me. It was happenstance."

Hughes growled. "Are you laughing?

"Yes, actually. You weren't undermined by Mycroft. John was just in the right place at the right time."

"I don't believe you! I know he sent him."

"Believe what you will , your acceptance of the truth is irrelevant."

"Then why would he-"

"Something someone like you will never understand Mr. Hughes. John's a soldier. He serves Queen and country, if that means laying his life down to save others he will do it without hesitation." The other man squeezed Sherlock's arm pulling him along the sounds of sirens just behind them.

"A soldier? Little insects, the most expendable of pieces on any game board, usually the first to go and be replaced."

"They aren't pieces. You idiot!" Sherlock growled trying to pull free. An image of John on a battle field surrounded by others in the same uniform, rushing forward because that was what the orders had been. If John hadn't been shot he would still be out there. And this mad man saw their blood and lives lost,  as pawns. Expendable, the thought of John lying in some desert because of the greed of one man and others, it sickened him he pulled his arm back trying to throw the other man off balance. 

"Oh, you are just as sentimental as Mycroft. He said the same thing more than a few times. Man is a fool for all his ice. He's just another soldier but in a suit, giving anything for his country. He even sold you out once, just to prevent war. War shouldn't have a heart. Every day he tries to prevent one after another, he's cutting the profit of some powerful men. And when I get you out of the way, he's next." Hughes held tighter, and pressed the barrel of the gun into Sherlock's side, halting anymore attempts at struggling. 

"You obviously underestimate Mycroft. He will always be one step ahead. Look how quickly he found this place. You are talking about war, you must know going to war against my brother is a foolish move it's suicidal. And if you think otherwise then you know nothing of war."

" That's the thing you dont get.  It's all about The Kill, leaving nothing. Profit is in the Kill. The secrets and the weapons. Do you have any idea how many wars I've started?" Hughes waved his gun at the dark haired man, when the bang of a bullet leaving the chamber entering the barrel and exploding towards a target cut any other actions short.

Sherlock lost his balance falling onto his side when the hand holding him suddenly let go and Hughes fell back hand to his chest, the gray suit stained.

"Do you have any idea how many wars I've been in?" John growled, moving towards the groaning man he kicked the weapon out of reach.

Took out the zip ties ignoring the shoulder wound, "I'm having déjà vu, I seem to remember another man of yours that met an end this way."

"I'll kill you!"

"You've tried before and it worked so well. So you'll have to excuse me if I don't exactly hold you to that." John pulled the knife from his pocket and cut his friend loose.

"John?" Sherlock was getting to his feet rubbing his wrists.

"We are going to have a long talk later Sherlock Holmes." John stated coolly.

"May I just add that I originally was just investigating on a hunch, once I confirmed it I was going to call Mycroft and Lestrade."

"I'm sure you were."

"John-I." Sherlock wanted to tell his friend that he was only wanting to be sure that any threat to him was finally neutralized that he couldn't risk Hughes getting away again. That's what his brain told him he should say but his mouth never got the words out before his friend pulled him down onto the hard gravel, several shots fired. The other St. Pierre brother was now laying face down in the dirt, a dark pool of blood spreading under him. John and Sherlock looked up.

"This is where we part ways Doc. Nice meeting you Captain Watson." Jesse stepped out of the shadows of the dark buildings, a pale Helena at her side, holding a pair of red heels in her hand a gun in the other. The blond man was hauling a grumbling dark haired friend to his feet. 

"You too." John waved with his gun.

"Irene cant say it's been a pleasure." Sherlock called straightening his suit

"Once more your charm astounds me. Ciao Sherlock. It's a shame about dinner."

John could hear Jesse's voice grow louder in the distance. "This subject isnt dropped yet! We are going to have a long talk about going off on our own!"  
"Abbs darling-it wasn't my fault really, besides you 're limping, lets talk about it later."

"Just a bit sore. Don't change the subject." the blond snapped.

"We'll get you home and some hot tea I think." Helena's reply was even and thoughtful, ignoring her friends response.

"Helena-"

John sympathized he knew all to well she'd get no where with that conversation.

"John?" Sherlock had a frown on his face. "John are you alright? You're smiling."

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's all fine."

"I better take this shirt off, don't want to be accidentally shot again. Twice is good enough for me in one life time."

"People will definitely talk now John." Sherlock giggled feeling relief at the outcome of their situation.

"Oh, shut up, I have another shirt on under this one." John pulled the black t shirt off, revealing a blood stained white one underneath. Sherlock ignored Hughes moans and curses, the blood was dark against the white of the shirt, even in the poor lighting of the moon and what flickering security lights of the warehouse a few feet away.

"John-you're bleeding."

"Yeah, I figured just opened it up-its nothing." Sherlock wanted to say something more but more of Hughes men were fleeing from the chaos of agents and the Yard. A helicopter was circling over head. Hughes was yelling for help John kicked him hard in the ribs to silence him, they were out in the open, the black get away car that would have been Hughes' was already driving off with the sniper and _The Woman_.

John hooked a hand under Hughes' arm "Go Sherlock go!" He pointed in a safer direction away from the main conflict. "Keep your head down." John dug his mobile out of his pockets. Hughes was pulling away, John dropped his mobile trying to cut his yell for help short by pushing on the fresh bullet wound the man fell to his knees.

"Hurts doesn't it. You have no idea. See us soldiers deal with worse pain,  than that little flesh wound."

"Lestrade where are you?" Sherlock had John's mobile. They flinched hearing more shooting. "We have Hughes-can you please tell your men not to shoot John again. And I would appreciate not being the target of an idiots bullet."

John didn't listen "Hands where we can see them! Stand still!" came an officer's voice.

John tensed, he held tight to Hughes arm.

"Officers-" John began.

"I said hands! NOW!" the officer wearing a black vest commanded. 

"Lestrade-" Sherlock growled into the mobile still to his ear.

John had thrown his guns down "We are on the same side. If you would listen-"he tried.

The sound of the weapon's safety being clicked to off, brought him up short.


	27. ACKNOWLEDGMENT

 

**CHAPTER 27. ACKNOWLEDGMENT**

"Stop! Stand down! That's the Doctor!" came another officer's shaky voice his hand grabbing the officers forearm. "I said it's Doctor Watson and Mr. Holmes." To John's relief the other two in heavy gear stood down. The younger of the three wearing a bullet proof vest stepped forward. John thought he caught an edge in the young mans voice, nerves were running high he could understand his unease.

"Sirs. This way may be a little safer. I'll take you and the prisoner to a secured area."

"Sorry Mr. Holmes, Doctor Watson-"the officer who had been holding a gun on them stated coolly before heading off towards Hughes' thugs, all in which were laying on their stomachs hands behind their backs.

"As you should-"Sherlock started to complain.

"It's fine-thank you officer." John cut Sherlock off who only rolled his eyes. The young man had a look of sudden relief; John felt for the kid, his friend could be a bit much. Still the kid did look somewhat familiar, maybe Sherlock had been cutting at a crime scene. He was a bit of an impatient ass when it came to manners.

"Sherlock! John!" the DI ran over to meet them.

"I think you two will drive me to an early grave! Now someone is going to tell me what the hell is going on here!?"

"We caught you a terrorist Lestrade. Be grateful. This is Thobias Hughes, he orchestrated this last couple of weeks events."

"And there's another fellow tied up inside near the back entrance. He's wearing a gray suit and I believe he may be French, he said something that sounded like it."

"Ah, John. That would be one of the St. Pierre brothers, now that's a prize Lestrade. He's one of the men who delivered the bombs. It's like Christmas, so if we could be going John needs to see a Doctor."

"I am a Doctor."

"Christ John are you alright?" Lestrade's eyes fell on the man's bloody t-shirt.

"You'll pay for this Holmes! You and Doctor Watson! I'll see you both dead!" Hughes swore angrily attempting to pull free of John's hold.

"Someone get this scum out of my sight! I need a medic over here." Lestrade growled.

"I'm fine. I just opened the wound a bit. It's fine." John protested irritably, he could see the younger officer was staring at him eyes wide, poor kid looked ready to puke.

  
"John it's best you listen. Unless you wish to spend another week in the hospital due to infections." The voice John knew all to well, he gave a tight smile of acknowledgment. "Doctor Watson I thank you for the text message. As always you show impeccable foresight. Something my brother lacks seriously."

"Mycroft. Wondered when you would turn up." Sherlock turned irritably on his brother." As for foresight-" John rolled his eyes, he was feeling a bit more exhausted, he hadnt had much exercise since being released from the hospital, adrenaline could take you so far. Damn if he wasn't sore,

"I think I'll sit this one out." He put a hand to his chest, both Holmes brothers halted their argument examining the Doctor's stature, his facial expression and pallor. "I know, I know. Carry on. I'm going to go have a seat in the ambulance but I'm not getting in and I'm not going to a damn hospital! It's final! Lestrade you know where to find me when you want a report. Mycroft good to see you. Sherlock you need to have your head examined."

"I've been saying this for years." Lestrade couldn't help himself from saying this out loud he hadn't even noticed, until Sherlock shot him a glare Mycroft was attempting to hold back a grin.

"Kent will you escort the stubborn Doctor make sure he doesn't fall on his face. " Lestrade turned to the younger officer in an attempt to ignore Sherlock's dark glare.

"I know the way! It's the big red and white vehicle with orange blankets and a cot in the back. Got it." John growled.

"Sherlock you do need a medic to look at that cut on the side of your head." Lestrade ignored John's rant.

The Doctor straightened his shoulders, who would have thought that running was so exhausting. He wanted some paracetamol, a hot cup of tea and to just sink down into his chair.

"Doctor." The younger officer from earlier nervously caught up to him.

"I can assure you I can make the short distance-" exhaustion was creeping into this voice, this certainly wasnt going to help convince anyone.

"Right, sir. I uh." John looked at the younger man, the kid was a bit pale. The younger officer, removed his hat  twisting it nervously in his hands. John paused next to the ambulance, the younger man was nervous, why? He looked as if he needed to say something but didnt know how or was afraid of a poor reaction.

"Officer-uh?"

"Kent sir. Officer Thomas Kent." the boy straightened his shoulders meeting the Doctor's blue eyes.

"Well that was a good thing you did there for us. Could have been a bad situation." The younger man went even more pasty, John almost wanted to tell him to sit down on the tailgate of the ambulance next to him. And standing there looking at the young man he figured out exactly where he'd known the officer from.

"You know I was a soldier once." John sighed heavily sitting now on the tailgate of the Ambulance.

"Doctor?"

"These men are experienced mercenaries, they're kings of disguise. Hell they were even trained by our fine government, only to turn down a darker path and use those skills for personal gain. What I'm saying is, had anyone else been in your position the same thing would have played out. These bastards managed to bring down a whole street lined with warehouses in the industrial district, and then walk right out unnoticed even assisted by our own. So What I'm saying is. Don't be sorry. I'm not dead, and it's no hard feelings." He put a hand out and the young officer's color returned some, he took the Doctor's hand and gave a firm hand shake.

"Anyway I appreciate your candor. You're a good man officer Thomas Kent, and you did a fine job. If that officer would have shot Sherlock I'd of never heard the end of it, he can be such a baby when it comes to injury. Alright. Now that is the end of it."

"Thank you sir."

"Now get the hell out of my sight I'd like to under go the humiliation of paramedics telling me off for not taking my injuries into consideration, all alone."

"Yes sir. Very well. Thank you." John wasn't kidding he hated hearing the nagging from other medical field workers. They would of course point out he should know better being a Doctor and all. Better get it over with.


	28. EPILOGUE

**_EPILOGUE~_ **

John decided to get some fresh air for the second time in a week; Sherlock was being insufferable today especially since Mycroft had shown up for his weekly visit. He had made the suggestion that John Watson go for a walk, he planned on having a long chat with his brother. So John set out with a paper in his hand and his mind on enjoying the beautiful weather.

He read over the world news, wars, natural disasters and political scandals, something caught his eye in particular. It seemed some South American drug Cartel leader had finally been captured. A picture of the burning compound which had been secret was shown at the top of the small article. John folded the paper frowning to himself, hadn't he just received a postcard this afternoon. He took it out of his pocket where he'd stuffed it. He had been in a hurry to get out the door before he strangled his bored flatmate and the irritating British Government.

The post card was from Brazil, it said; _**Greetings from Brazil!**_

Turning it over in handwriting he didn't recognize it simply said _ **. 'In Arduis Fidelis.'**_ (Faithful in adversity) John smiled that was the motto of RAMC, he knew  Jesse's would have been ' _ **Onward.**_ ' That was fitting, from one soldier to the next.

"John!" John turned hearing his name, but he didn't recognize the younger woman and she must be calling for a different John the way she looked past him. "Johnny!" she looked worried, as a doctor he'd seen plenty of parents in the A&E with that same look of distress and concern. He approached.

"Need some help? Did you lose something?"

"Yes, my son. He's only six. I turned around for a minute and-" she looked as if she was trying to keep her panic down, she was American. Oh dear probably a tourist, even more distressing to lose sight of your child in a foreign country. "His father and Uncle are looking at the other end. And they've already called the police. I hate the fuss but he's so adventurous."

"It's alright. Now. Just take a deep breath. What's he look like then? I'll help you. Maybe we can get another officer to help on this hunt." She eyed him warily.

"It's alright I know a few officers, I work with a detective inspector at Scotland yard-er the police." He pulled his visitors badge out of his pocket she briefly glanced at the picture, he could see she didn't even read the name but he understood she was in distress.

Visibly relieved she described her son. They walked along the path near the small duck pond, John knew it was a popular place for kids he'd often passed by seeing the children feeding the ducks or skipping rocks. A police officer was approaching and the distraught woman flagged him over. John continued to scan the duck pond area, he smiled catching sight of a young boy with brown hair and a blue sweater trying to coax a duck closer in hopes of petting it.

"You wouldn't happen to be John would you?"  The good Doctor approached slowly, keeping his voice even. The young boy, stood up narrowing his eyes.

"Depends." The boy had no accent so maybe his mother was an American and his father was British.

"If you are, then your mummy is looking for you."

"Oops." He bit his lip "Was she very cross. I know I shouldn't run off, I just forgot she wasn't behind me. I was just on my way back."

John remembered how his own mother used to fly off the handle when he pulled a similar stunt.

"Best be going she's over by the bench talking to that officer."

"Oh-am I going to be arrested?" his eyes got big. "Are you a policeman?" John shook his head. "No, I'm a doctor. My name is John. But I do work with a very nice detective at Scotland Yard." He showed his name badge.

"Hey, that's my name!" he smiled brightly "Do they call you Johnny?"

"Not if I can help it." John replied.

"I hate it too." The boy took Johns hand. "What does the police need a doctor for?" He asked swinging his arm with John's.

"Oh lots of things." John started to steer him towards the still upset mother.

"I like policemen. They 're very helpful." the boy stated easily as if John didnt know that fact.

"Oh, is that what you want to be when you grow up? It's a noble profession." John kept pace with the young boy, without seeming threatening. These days it never looked good for a man his age to be chatting with a small boy that was of no relation.

"Oh, no. I'm going to be a soldier like my dad. Or a Doctor like my uncle."

John cracked a smile he remembered saying the same thing at this boys age. "You could always do both."

"You're right! My uncle is from America and he did both but now he makes noses." John thought he heard wrong but before he could ask the boys mother was running towards them.

"Oh! John!" The mother was pulling the boy into her arms, a crushing hug that made both John's wince.

"Are you alright? What have I said about running off! Your father and uncle are worried sick!" She stood up looking slightly embarrassed.

"Oh, Doctor. Fancy meeting you here. You on a case?" officer Licht smiled offering his hand. John took it warmly.

"No just out for a nice walk. Thought I'd help out."

The woman smiled brightly. "Thank you. For finding him-Doctor is it?"

"Uh, yes. I apologize. I should have introduced myself."

"His names John too!" the boy was tugging on his mothers arm. "But he doesn't care to be called Johnny." John couldn't help but ruffle the boys hair, kids at this age were so open and blatant with their words.

"Yes. That's right. John Watson."

"Did you say Doctor?" the woman looked at John as if he were about to sprout wings. She must have read the blog, and next question would be about Sherlock.

"Yes. That's right. Doctor Watson here helps us down at the Yard occasionally." Licht smiled brightly. "Well since the boys been found I'll be on my way." Licht gave the boy a serious look "And you Johnny boy try not to give your mum a scare." The young boy gave a tight smile but John could see he wanted to say something about being called Johnny. The woman was still starring at John to the point of discomfort.

" Well nice to meet you both. I better be off, I left my flatmate at home unsupervised and if I do that too long he'll usually get up to something."

"Wait." The woman grabbed his arm suddenly then she smiled brightly. "Please. My husband would like to thank you. I'm sure of it." She turned seeing two men starting words her she was waving frantically.

"Oh, it was nothing-I didn't even go to far to find him." John was already feeling uncomfortable.

"Best not to argue John, Dad says a man should never disagree with mum. She makes the dinner." The young boy whispered loud enough for John to hear and he had to stifle a laugh. The boy sounded so serious, and wise beyond his young years.

"You're a wise man John, a wise man indeed."

"Oh thank god!" the younger of the two men went to his son, kneeling down. John caught how he did so with a stiff leg, bad knee maybe. No matter the man was in fact British just as John guessed, no deduced he had an old war injury. Especially since the boy said his father was a soldier.

"Sorry." The boy was saying into his fathers shoulder.

"you mustn't run off like that you gave mummy a scare and not to mention your uncle and I." The boy made a very believable apologetic face.

John was ready to wave goodbye and hurry on his way, good deed for the day accomplished.

"Honey, this nice man helped find John." The younger man stood up slowly, he smiled easily, then his face went white. John thought he maybe stood up to fast.

"Doctor Watson?" The other man cut in.

"Oh, Doctor Bailey nice to meet you again. What a coincidence. This is your nephew?" It made sense now, Dr. Bailey was a plastic surgeon. Noses indeed, but why did everyone look at him as if he'd just offered them a winnig lottery ticket.

"Yes, he sure is. This is my sister Marybell, you've met my nephew Johnathan this is my brother in law-"he gestured to the younger man.

John was smiling easily, the younger man had to be 25 or 27 he couldn't be close to 30, why the hell did he seem so familiar? He'd met him before he was sure of it, and it hit him the way the man had a slight limp.

_**Afghanistan six years ago** _

" _What's your name son?"_

" _Carter, sir Staff Sergeant Josh Carter."_

" _Well I'm a Doctor."  
"Yes sir I know sir, Captain John Watson."_

" _Yes, and I out rank you. So I want you to listen. No! Stay with me!" The younger man nodded hearing the command._

" _Sir, yes sir."_

" _That's right. I'm going stop this bleeding-"  
"I cant die here, my wife's pregnant. I don't even know what she's having I promised I'd come home." John kept his jaw hard set._

" _Listen to me Staff Sergeant Josh Carter, you aren't going to die here. Do you understand that's a damn order. I'm going to stop this bleeding."_

" _My leg will I still-"_

" _I will do the best I can. Hey, look at me. You will not die here. You are going to go home."_

" _Yes sir." He cringed. Captain Watson ducked down as several bullet hit to close for comfort, the young man was the only alive in the flipped humvee. John would mourn them later for now he had a life to save. "It's just if I-I die here she'll be all alone. I married her and brought her to London."_

" _All the more reason to keep breathing. Because I m not going to let you die."_

John pulled out of the memory in a blink he finished Doctor Bailey's introduction. "Carter-Staff Sergeant Carter. What a coincidence." he smiled brightly offering his hand.

"It's just Josh now Captain." the veteran returned the firm handshake.

"Just John now."

John looked the younger man over. Besides a limp he looked happy and healthy. His young wife was wiping at her eyes and their son was staring up at him in awe.

"I had no idea, that you were the same John." Doctor Bailey swallowed the lump in his throat. This wasnt exactly the way he'd hoped for them to all meet. But he'd take it. And he had to remind himself, Texans don't cry.

He wanted to express to the Doctor just what he had done for his family. His sister was the only family Chris had, and that made Josh just as valuable. When Josh had returned injured but not as bad off as it could have been. Chris being a doctor that specialized in these things, knew good work when he saw it. So when Josh told him the story he committed the name to memory in hopes of one day tracking the man down.

The surgeon, had been in town visiting his family when Mycroft Holmes approached him out of the blue. Of course he knew Chris' reputation and somehow his connection, there was very little The British Government didn't know. It warmed the big hearted Texan to know the ex army Captain had good friends. Captain Watson was a hero, he deserved nothing less.

"How do you know each other?" Josh asked suddenly, finally releasing the Doctor's hand.

"Oh, Doctor Bailey dug a bullet out of my chest for me." John smiled easily.

"Yes, Doctor Watson here and his colleague consult for the Yard. Got into a bit of trouble. I just happened to be in town for a visit, so someone with a government office got a hold of me. I wish I would have known this was the same John Watson that my nephew was named for."

John stiffened looking down at the young boy who watched him curiously. "I would have maybe made the stitches prettier."

Doctor Watson had to laugh at the joke, he liked the Texan almost immediately and knowing Mycroft he picked the best surgeon and only the best. Mycroft never did anything half way.

The young women embraced him gently. Kissed his cheek, and John tried not to look too uncomfortable. Soldiers don't blush, or cry they don't.

"I've always wanted to meet you. You saved my husbands life."

Dr. Bailey could see the growing discomfort, despite the kind words and obvious gratitude he could see the Doctor wasn't a man that took praise so easily.

"So Doctor Watson. We never got to hear how you managed to get shot a few weeks ago. That should be an interesting story to hear. I guess you can never retire the soldier, even when you do the man. I say we owe this man a drink and he can tell us all about it!"

"Oh, I bet it's an exciting story. Why don't you come over for dinner." The younger women had her arm linked comfortably into his.

John was about to object but the young boy tugged on his arm he leaned over "Best not to argue. She makes the dinner." John smiled

"Well that said I would love too."

 _ **Onward**_.


End file.
